


Crepuscular

by Iteunmul



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Space, Dreams and Nightmares, EXO Big Bang Round 1, It gets confusing, M/M, Past Violence, Trauma, the summary doesn't do the plot justice but anyways, this was severely unedited oh my gosh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 43,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24737920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iteunmul/pseuds/Iteunmul
Summary: After a series of disturbing dreams that start on his birthday, Junmyeon is haunted with the possibilities that certain events from his past are not what they seem, and something is severely wrong with him and the people he's around. The crazy dreams haunt him, and the fact his own soulmate doubts his intentions doesn't help either.written for the EXO Big Bang Event
Relationships: Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Zhang Yi Xing | Lay
Comments: 25
Kudos: 25
Collections: EXO Big Bang Writing Event





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for the whole fic: violence, minor character death, choking

There was a tale from Junmyeon’s childhood. One his mother would whisper childishly to him before he succumbed to the land of sleep. It described two Gods, destined to love yet destined for pain. A terrible curse had been inflicted on them, and they were forced to live out centuries, lifetimes, away from each other. A repeating cycle. In the lifetimes they met, disaster struck. In the lifetimes they didn’t, they felt like a hole was in their heart. A missing piece. Sometimes they remembered, sometimes they didn’t. The curse insured they could never love in peace again. 

Throughout their lifetimes, the curser had followed them. Ensuring pain and heartbreak between the two. 

In one version, it described the sun. It’s rays burning and scorching everything it came across. It’s anger could be felt from miles away, a testament to the Sun God’s anger. His lover, taken away from him. His life, a void and empty. The Sun had burned the universe to mere ashes.

In another version, it described the moon, in all it’s holy etherealness, glowing majestically as it proceeded to crash straight into a planet. The Moon God’s mourning. Snatched from the hands of his beloved, forever. Destroying entire populations, turning everything into fine dust the moment it scraped across the planet’s surface.

His Mother had uttered their names for years, and then stopped. The memories slowly vanished from Junmyeon’s mind. For years, Junmyeon had been trying to remember the names of the Gods, but he never could. 

Junmyeon’s least favourite version was the latter. Sometimes, Junmyeon finds himself comparing the palace, the kingdom, this _planet_ to the Moon in that story. Strong, beautiful. Something that people would stop and admire— but at the same time— powerful enough to destroy planets with the slightest touch. He had always wondered about the sun in that story. Where was the sun, in all it’s ethereal beauty when it’s sister was crashing into an innocent planet? For the sun held the real power above the moon— taunting it with it’s fiery trials and scorching heat. Forcing it to face the same vicious cycle of setting and rising.

Now he knows. The sun was always there, burning with rage, trying to reach out for the one thing it could never get. 

Junmyeon hears something in the distance, shouts of terror? Screams of chaos? He’s familiar enough with both to recognize them. He chooses to lay back in the sandy dunes, sand whipping in his eyes causing them to defensively create tears. 

Yixing wasn’t the moon, Junmyeon thinks to himself, he was the sun. Still ethereal, still glowing. But glowing red. Spitting fire, producing sparks. He was hot to touch, couldn’t be stared at too long for the image of his golden eyes would burn into ones retina for as long as they could live. 

Handsome, beautiful even, powerful enough to annihilate nations with the snap of a finger. Powerful enough to burn everything straight into the ground. Holding the real power of the kingdom, no he was the power of the kingdom, the secret weapon? No. There was nothing secret about the way he tore up people on the battlefield without even blinking.

Something unpredictable, wise and judging. A weapon smart enough to decide who deserved to live and who deserved to die in seconds.

But it wasn’t the sun that was going to kill Junmyeon, oh no, it wasn’t Yixing who was going to kill him in all his marvelous fury, it was Junmyeon himself.

Junmyeon’s vision blurs as he struggles to breathe. Watching Yixing march towards him, maroon cape fluttering dramatically in the breeze, golden sword hanging from his hand, watching Junmyeon with red, dark, concentrated eyes, his deadly expression burning people the moment they made eye-contact. 

And all Junmyeon can think about, the only thing consuming his mind, is the goddamn moon.

☾

__

_“Smile, will you?” Bright golden eyes burn into her own. She tries, but she’s so scared of messing up. “This will hang in the castle for millennials, you want to look happy, don’t you?”_

_“I do,” She murmurs, but she feels too on edge. As if she’s excited from the nervousness emanating off her. This is what makes it official. Their engagement, a royal celebration. The union of the heir and her. It’s strange, she’s known him her whole life, but she can’t help the jitters. The spotlight will be on her now, but not forever, maybe. Maybe it will be forever, if she’s lucky. Which she can count herself to be considering how she will rule beside him._

_“Then_ smile _,” It’s easier for him to do. His charming smile, his charming laugh. She can’t help the way her heart flutters along with the mirth that dances in those fascinating fiery eyes of his. He’s in a good mood today, she doesn’t know why, she never does. A strange friendship. She can only hope she doesn’t weigh it down._

 _“I am,” She says stiffly, trying to keep her pose. If the painter of the royal portrait fixed another stern, disapproving glare at her she might lose it. It’s hard to stay still for so long, her posture is stiff and unnatural, her smile is strained. She can feel the sweat on her palms. How unlike her. For once, she’s nervous. This has to be perfect, this painting would hold thousands of words, and she needed all of them to be good. Great._ Perfect. __

_“This is only a formality.” he reminds her. And somehow it's a reminder for more than that. They’re friends, is what the reminder tells her. She can feel comfortable with him. She was ecstatic when she found out they would marry, she has no idea if he was, though. She could never read him, never figure out what his expression meant, the message his eyes held._

_For now, and only for now, it would be alright if she didn’t get him._

_It would be alright if he didn’t love her._

_It would be all right if he wasn’t enamoured by the time of their wedding, because eventually he would be._

☾

Junmyeon dreams of a time before he was born. He dreams of a time filled with peace, rather than longing for it.

He dreams of laughter and joy, a tall childhood friend he hasn't dared to think about for a heart-achingly long time. His Mother's hugs, and the sweet kisses that peppered his face every sunset. 

He dreams and longs for the wispy forests and dry fields. Dreams of a simpler time where he’s at his real home. Dreams of when he’s a child, memories of him roaming happily in the fields flashing in between foggy glances of a scorching desert and harshly purple eyes. 

Back then it didn’t matter what he did or where he went. When he roamed the fields that stretched for miles giggling. When he hid from imaginary monsters with jagged teeth in the looming trees. Fighting imaginary armies, equipped with the best gold armor, and wielding the most dangerous of weapons with his bare, tiny hands. 

He dreams of a time where his Mother was content, content with life, content with him. Before she had changed. Beaming at Junmyeon after he came back from wandering by himself. Singing lullabies as she washed his dirty hair. Laughing as he went on tangents describing his journeys and fights, which villain he defeated, or what monster he captured that day. 

They would go about their day until it was nightfall, when she told him stories to help him sleep. Stories about planets, and stars, and princes, and amongst his personal favourites, the story of a moon, a moon in all it’s holy etherealness, glowing majestically as it proceeded to crash into a planet. He mourned along with the moon, made tales about the Gods reunion whenever he could. Later on, he wondered if he was dark, sinister even, for liking a story that ended in sorrow, ended with thousands upon thousands of deaths. 

The dream changes, it shifts into something darker, ominous and sinister as the floor of his childhood home shakes tremendously and turns into ash, flying in the wind, flying into his eyes, burning, burning, burning away. He sees his mother, and then it’s not his mother, it’s a beautiful stranger in front of him, her eyes no longer bright but consumed by a black darkness. Her hand shakily reaches out towards Junmyeon, fine strands of purple magic wrapped around it. It hurts, reminds him too much of the past, when it was his own Mother’s hand stretched out shaily towards him, cursing her own son. 

The flames consume the stranger, who flickers in out of his Mother’s form, making her crumble into dust. He starts to run away from the flames, looking behind his shoulder to see his village burning to the ground and—

Suddenly he’s not in his village. Suddenly he’s stumbling into an ornately decorated room, one that looks suspiciously like one of the guest rooms in the castle, no, one that actually looked like his room, but somehow it’s _not._ It has the same grand bed, the mirror hanging on the wall, but it’s different, older, maybe even ancient. 

He runs to the dust streaked window, shoving it open in a hurry to see what all the commotion on the outside was, to see everything around him, but what he sees leaves him with a sick twisting in his stomach. 

Everything, the trees, the sand dunes, _everything_ is being consumed by an unnameable darkness. A big looming cloud of an inky dark purple colour swiftly consumes everything in sight. He watches with the familiar feeling of sinking despair as it corrupts everything, leaving nothing behind but a trail of sticky darkness.

It’s almost too much for Junmyeon to process. The massive fire, and now, a dark cloud that slowly falls over the land, covering everything. When he looks up, there’s something moving in the sky, moving towards them from a great distance. Something big, looming, falling towards his planet. Slowly, gracefully, is it an omen of death? 

_It described a moon— in all it’s holy etherealness, glowing majestically as it proceeded to crash straight into a planet._

Junmyeon is ironically frozen while everything around him burns. 

Frozen, staring as the darkness consumes. 

Frozen, silent as the destruction ascends.

It’s bright. Blinding him with every second it gets closer. His hands are tingling, and when he looks down to inspect them, he is greeted with hands that are not his own, hands that are pale and have a silvery hue. His right hand seems to be _engraved_ with strange markings, a haunting pair of eyes that glow gold in the falling sunlight— but most of all, hands that are burning, a live flame slowly incinerating his hands, but he feels no pain. 

He whips his head back towards the object falling from the sky with a sick feeling, resisting the urge to throw up as he forces himself to watch, almost like a punishment, as the falling object leads everyone to their doom

And then it hits him.

It’s not the moon falling, it’s not the moon burning everything to a dark crisp.

It’s the sun.

And it was burning everything in its path.

Before he can even open his mouth to scream, the ground cracks at his feet and he’s sinking into the floor, flailing and gasping for air as he’s submerged in darkness and tossed onto the ground. Scrambling through the darkness Junmyeon realizes he’s not in his room anymore. In fact, he doesn’t know where he is. Up in front of him in a bright, unreachable light. 

A glance to his side reveals someone standing beside him. Judging by how he makes out a blurry side profile through the stifling darkness. “What do you see?” The person asks, their voice soft, but pressing. 

Junmyeon can’t tell if it’s himself who said it, or some other entity. “It’s too bright,” he murmurs, and it’s not a lie. In front of him a bright burst of silver shimmers, no matter how hard he tries he can’t decipher what hides in the folds of the light.

“Look harder,” the voice rasps, a sharp edge. A hand wraps around Junmyeons wrist, fingers digging into his skin. When Junmyeon looks down at it, he can see strange markings covering it. “You need to try harder!”

“I am!” Junmyeon insists and he’s squinting, glaring at the light. His eyes burn and tear up, it’s simply too much. He wants to wake up, but his feet are grounded. “What is there to see?” In the darkness he sees a glimpse of a cage around him, them. 

“You,” the voice drops, low and dark, and it echoes either the silence sounding like an army of thousands. “Blind one, need to break us out.”

A surge of anger flares through Junmyeon and he shakes the hand latched onto his wrist off, to stare defiantly at the person beside him, only to be met by blinding silver eyes

Junmyeon hears the echoes of a sweet voice, tinged with demise all around him.

_**Wake up.** _

Junmyeon wakes up with a start, shooting up from his bed, eyes wide and sweating as his heart pounds and echoes in his chest. Someone’s hands are already on him, stroking his hair. 

“Junmyeon?” 

Junmyeon shakes his head noting immediately how everything _burns._ His throat burns, his head burns, his lungs burn, _everything_ just burns. He quickly flips his hands over to look for anything, scanning them to check for any physical wounds. They are not pale and colourless, and there are no strange marks or burns etched into them. There’s absolutely no sign of the flames previously dancing along on skin, instead, they’re patchy and red all over. He feels his heart hammering in his chest as he looks around the room. 

The images from the dream plague his mind, his soul even. He had dreamt about his _Mother,_ and that was something he wanted to forget as soon as he could. When Junmyeon closes his eyes he sees it so clearly, he can feel his fingers twitching as if he’s back home, wandering the fields, he can smell his Mother’s cooking, feel the joy from seeing—

Junmyeon opens his eyes forcefully, glancing up to the person standing beside him. The only person he let’s into his chambers when he’s sleeping. The only person who he trusts enough to keep him safe. 

Dark hair that didn’t match his golden eyes. Ringed fingers that ran through Junmyeon’s hair. Deep red robes that added to his challenging aura. Yixing. His prince. The prince of the entire planet actually. Apart from that, he was also Junmyeon’s soulmate, and the man he was to marry. Not that anyone knew that last bit.

Junmyeon grips his thick burgundy sheets, trying to regain his composure, but he can’t help the thoughts that run wildly in his mind. Disturbing. That’s what the dream was. The fires, the destruction, the shadowy figure. Was it Yixing who had woken him up, or was it the voice that managed to strike fear into the deepest parts of Junmyeon— even though he didn’t even know who it was?

“You were crying out in your sleep,” Yixing murmurs, his eyes glow deep gold, matching the multiple rings on his fingers. He’s trying to read Junmyeon, figure out his troubled thoughts without having to ask. He does so anyway. “Dreaming about your Mother again?” 

“Strangely enough I only dream about her on the anniversary of her death.” It’s meant to be a joke, a funny quip if anything. But the words twist in his mouth. Tired, and filled with depreciation.

“Or the anniversary of when she attempted to kill you,” Yixing replies casually, but the orange hue in his eyes give away his true emotions.It was strange how even after all this time Junmyeon still couldn’t get used to the way his eyes changed hues. It was nearly dizzying.

Ironically Junmyeon could only remain impartial, while Yixing struggled to feel anything other than contempt towards Junmyeon’s dead Mother. Junmyeon doesn’t even think of his Mother anymore. The memories were painful, almost torturous to remember. On this day today, his birthday, several years ago, his own dear Mother had attempted to kill him. 

Junmyeon was only a child when it happened. There was no way he could have ever seen it coming. No way he could have been smart enough to do anything.

At first everything was fine, lovely even. He had _fun,_ spent his time roaming fields, and playing. Coming home to a smiling mother, coming home to love and joy. He was innocent, and young. 

But then something happened. Something dark and shrouded possessed his household. His mother seemed drained, her eyes dark. She forbade him from wandering outside, she never talked, as if something was physically choking her everytime she tried. She stopped telling him stories. 

All stories but one. 

The story describing a moon— in all it’s holy etherealness, glowing majestically as it proceeded to crash straight into a planet. And that’s all she would say, over and over again. And as Junmyeon heard it over, and over again, he started to hate it. Feel sick the moment she would start . It was a calamitous story, a story he went from loving, to hating.

She was lost, practically dead inside, Junmyeon could see it. From the way she moved, the way she talked, the way she _looked._ She was gone, a ghost of who she used to be. He tried to reason with himself, how it would be stupid to think she was going to come out of her dark stupor eventually. Stupid to think she would just _come back._

She was there, but not really _there._ As if she was looking into another time, another planet. Her mind in a faraway place which Junmyeon couldn’t see or touch, her mind lost in it’s own little world.

That didn’t prevent him from thinking she could come back.

He had hoped, hoped that if he took care of her enough, if he tended to her and tried his best, that she would come back. But that was foolish of him, oh so foolish, his Mother just became paranoid. 

She rarely spoke, crouched in a dusty corner of the house. Mumbling to herself. Only to talk out-loud when she was rambling on and on about the moon, the sun. _The Gods._ She stopped speaking their names. Her voice filled with an ancient hate. Only to talk in strange languages and weird warnings. Warnings of deadly things to come, as if she could see the future, spewing words about the planet's doom.

_Destroying entire populations, turning everything into fine dust the moment it scraped across the planet’s surface._

Faraway looks as she described a planet where even something as tiny and mere as _dust_ had a holy purpose. A planet so full of life, so bright. And yet a planet so dark, filled with secrets, filled with sheer power that could send the proudest people trembling on their knees. A planet with the sole purpose of conquering, ruling everything in their massive reach. Fleeting warnings of how they had a weapon, a weapon that could take one look, one glance at someone, and decide if they deserved to live or die. 

Warned him of how they were coming here, to his home. 

He doesn’t remember much, tries to block as much of it as he can. What he does remember is fragmented and foggy. 

There had been an attack. Just like his Mother had said. Flying ships had descended through their clouds, breaking and taking everything in sight. He remembers wanting to cling to his Mother for safety, only to feel more fear when he looked at her. 

And then, the running. His small sandaled feet running, gasping for breath, the fine strands of purple that chased at his heels, his Mother reaching for him. She was right there, and he was in her grasp. A blur of getting tackled, fingernails raking at his face, a hand wrapped around his throat. 

And this part, this part he remembers vividly, in colour and clear as if it were happening right in front of him. His Mother, hands outstretched to choke him, purple darkness shrouding her while the hatred burned into her eyes, and then Junmyeon’s eyes widening as a sword pierced through her chest. 

If he hadn’t closed his eyes, he would’ve witnessed the light from her eyes fade. 

It was Yixing who had killed her. He claimed his feet had just carried him in that direction, his hands moved to their own accord and slayed her. It didn’t matter to Junmyeon, who found more relief in Yixing’s actions than sorrow. At the time Yixing didn’t even know why he was explaining himself to Junmyeon, who was so much smaller, and clearly from the enemy’s side. 

Even back then Junmyeon could recognize the strength he held. The same age as him, but Yixing already had the confidence of someone much older. One look at his eyes was enough to indicate that he has wisdom beyond his years. It was somewhat haunting, the experiences his eyes held. He looked like he had lived through lifetimes. Those golden eyes of his gazing at Junmyeon. _Mine,_ they silently declared.

Junmyeon’s life was spared because Yixing insisted on it. Upon later examination, it was revealed that Junmyeon bore identical markings to the ones on Yixing’s shoulders. What had led Yixing wasn’t some unquestionable force, but rather a certain thread of fate that had allowed them to be soulmates. They couldn’t kill Junmyeon even if they wanted to, it would be a crime to kill the crown prince’s soulmate.

And so Junmyeon was brought to the palace of the kingdom that ruined his home. He grew up there, titled as Yixing’s close companion, their engagement was still to be announced to the public. But there were hushed whispers among all the servants. The whispers never made it past the royal gate. 

Maybe he should’ve been grateful towards his estranged Mother, because it was her wrongdoings that allowed him to feel a strange sense of peace here. 

Junmyeon muses that this could be the tale of three things: his Mother’s death, why he detested his own birthday, and how he ended up at the palace of the very conquerors who vanquished his own. 

“Never mind that,” Yixing’s words break through Junmyeon’s thoughts. “It’s the eve of your birthday, I’ve tried to delay waking you up as long as possible but this is as far as you can go. You need to get ready. You shouldn’t be late to your own celebration.” Yixing reprimands. 

“I’d rather not attend, really. It’s too late for me to go now,” Junmyeon sinks into his bed, only to be pulled back up by Yixing. 

“I won’t let you delay yourself any longer.” Yixing’s words are firm, and Junmyeon knows he’s made up his mind. “You just need to show your face for a few hours Junmyeon, there are very important people for you to meet.” 

“Who?” He asks aimlessly, trying to bide as much time as he can. 

“Well you will find out _when_ you come.” Yixing insists, eyes flashing orange. “If you must quell your curiosity, several of the people coming are involved in the budding peace treaties.” 

Ah, Junmyeon had heard a lot about them. He wasn’t allowed into meetings with that stature because he wasn’t officially a throne bearer. The group was a mix of the strongest planets, most intelligent leaders, and the cutthroat. An alliance which if succeeded, would be the greatest victory of all.

It’s not what Junmyeon wants to know, and it doesn’t date his curiosity either. “Fine, you may leave now.” He doesn’t really care, if he’s being honest. He just wanted to get it over with. 

“I’ll do what I want,” Yixing presses a kiss against the top of Junmyeon’s head, “But today I listen to you alone.” 

“You’ll do what you want regardless.”

He walks out of Junmyeon’s room, red robes fluttering behind him. Junmyeon wishes to cling to them. Convince Yixing to let him stay but it’s pointless. 

A celebration of any kind, especially one for the Crown Prince’s soulmate, was bound to be a marvelously styled event. But beneath it’s grand exterior, Junmyeon knows it’s just really an opportunity to socialize with other kingdom’s and planet’s. He chooses to believe that’s why the celebration is held instead. It makes it all more bearable. 

He ignores the chills he gets from the cold floor against his feet, pushing past the lingering sleep-induced fogginess of his brain to drag himself to the closest mirror. He examines himself scrutinously, coming in close to observe what his reflection shows. He does look rather pale, but it doesn’t come close to the almost silvery hue he bore in his dream. It does nothing to help the dark circles under his eyes, emphasizing his recent lack of sleep— and should someone choose to question why he looks so tired, Junmyeon is not too sure he’ll be able to answer. ‘Peculiar Dreams’ didn’t seem to be a fitting answer. 

As much as Junmyeon would like to say that this dream was weird, and a simple abnormality in his steady, constant life. He can’t. His dreams had always been peculiar, but as of late that had been slowly twisting into something else— something darker, sinister even. His dreams depicted things Junmyeon didn’t understand. Depicted things from other lifetimes, lifetimes he had read about in the countless history books in the royal library. 

He purses his lips, before breaking out into a sudden smile, watching in satisfaction as the reflection smiles back. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but for the most part no one, but one, would pay enough attention to detail to notice. For a split second, it’s almost as if his eyes flash silver. 

Wonderful. He could now add hallucinating to the ever growing list of things that were slowly going wrong with him. “Get yourself together,” He mumbles, glaring at his reflection. “Just for tonight.” Later, he can write it all off as birthday stress. For now, he’ll just aim to get ready. Knowing Yixing, he had already stationed the servants outside to get him ready. He turns away from the mirror, sighing. He still feels a little ill.

If he had gazed a little bit longer, maybe he would’ve noticed the lingering shadow the mirror held, or the two silver eyes that stared out to him.

☾

_He’s been gone for hours now. He thinks she doesn't notice, but she does. They spend some meals together, but that’s all he’ll spare. Even before they were destined to be married he made time for her, now he doesn’t seem to give a second glance._

_Now, he disappears after their meals. He’s not in his chambers in the morning, or is ‘too preoccupied’ to talk to her. Even for a few seconds of the sun’s rays. It’s ridiculous. Is this the image he wants to portray to the kingdom? She can feel the palace attendants watching her, judging her every move. How dare they. How dare they feel pity for her._

_Or maybe, she’s too high strung at the moment, The stress of her soon-to-be position is starting to get her. She shouldn’t let it. He’s hers at the end of the day. Hers This kingdom will be half hers. Just half. A shared gift, not a burden._

_It’s fine. He’s probably just stressed. If not more, he had been dealing with this pressure since birth. It’s only right that he finds his own ways to relieve it, even if that means spending less time with her. She doesn’t mind, he loves her after all. It’s inevitable. Even if he doesn’t now, he will. She has enough love for the both of them._

_But he doesn’t want to share it, does he. Maybe that’s what irks him, maybe that’s why he’s never present. She sees the way his mind wanders when they’re talking. Can see it in the faraway look in his eyes that he’s not paying attention. What’s been proccuping him so much? He’s duties? He’s never at the training grounds, or the royal library. She keeps tabs, but no one will tell her where he is._

_It’s fine. He loves her. Right? He always would. It was impossible for him not to. They were close, inseparable. She flips through her book, but she’s not focused on her studies. Can’t help the way her mind is filled with thoughts around him. She called him to her hours ago, and he still hasn’t so much as graced her with a response._

_She can’t feel angry at him, no matter how hard she tries. Images of his sweet smile, and captivating eyes fill her mind._

_At that very moment he enters her chambers, she’s already entranced in the way his robes flutter behind him. A God, in every aspect. She smiles at him, smiles wider when she sees the light golden hue of his eyes. He’s happy._

_He smiles back, and his eyes morph into a darker gold. Less happy. She pays it no mind. “I called you to me hours ago,” She chastises, but there’s no real anger._

_“Apologies, I was occupied.”_

_She doesn’t ask with what. It’s not her place, even if she is to stand beside him._

☾

They’re making their way down to one of the biggest palace rooms for Junmyeon’s birthday, he can already predict it’ll be a stuffy affair.“You look wonderful,” Yixing comments warmly, eyes glinting gold as Junmyeon makes his way down, arm looped in his.

Junmyeon is abruptly reminded of the glowing eyes from his dreams. He thinks Yixing looks much better, he always was handsome. His personality just made him even more charming. Whereas in his case, he couldn’t even be bothered to smile right now. 

“All thanks to the servants,” Junmyeon murmurs. He doesn’t feel wonderful, if anything, he’s starting to feel a little sick. 

Yixing rolls his eyes playfully, “Let me compliment you, for once?” 

“I’d rather you not.” 

“Just for today?” 

The warning glance Junmyeon gives him is enough for him to stop, and provoke a teasing grin out of him. “One year older, one year wiser,” 

“Don’t be a fool,.” Maybe if he was wise, he would’ve understood his peculiar dreams. 

Yixing stops, turning to fully face Junmyeon. He examines Junmyeon’s face, and Junmyeon openly lets him. Challenges him to say what’s on his mind. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Of course I am.” A lie. 

“Don’t lie to me,” 

“I’m not,” Another lie. 

“Junmyeon.” Now it’s Yixing giving Junmyeon a warning glance, his eyes darkening into a murky orange shade. “The dream wasn’t real. It didn’t mean anything.” He brings his hand up to caress Junmyeon’s face, the gesture is less comforting than he expects it to be.

Dream was a rather light term for it to be called. Junmyeon wouldn’t hesitate to call it a nightmare, even now as the scenes flashed before his eyes. 

“You woke up, and that’s what matters.” Yixing was a firm believer in the notion that dreams held a weight that this reality couldn’t. A glimpse into a problem, or solution. Wisdom gifted by the Gods. Forgotten memories resurfacing. They never brought back the names of the Gods, much to Junmyeon’s dismay—he realized later that their names had been erased from history, burned away in Junmyeon’s memories, and everyone’s— The worst way to die in this kingdom, would be to die in your sleep. Chained to an eternal darkness brought by a curse, or worse. 

Now he’s thinking about the voice. The one voice that sounded like thousands, ordering him to wake up. 

“I’m _fine,”_ he insists, looking Yixing in the eyes. _What do you see?_ He hears the voice from his dream ask. _Anger,_ he wants to answer. _An insatiable anger_ that burns in Yixing’s eyes. He’s always been too stubborn for his own good. “I mean it,” he says softer than earlier, bringing his hand up to hold Yixing’s. 

Yixing doesn’t believe it, but he lets it drop. “If you insist.” There’s an edge in his voice. Annoyance, maybe? Junmyeon is too tired to discern it. 

They resume walking, and Junmyeon pushes the remnants of his dream to the farthest corner of his mind.

☾

_She’s sitting down, a long line extending from the stairs and out the massive doors. The line is for their wedding, they haven’t been wed yet, but the day approaches quicker and quicker. With every day, the farther the distance grows between them. She pays that no mind as well, considers it to be a trivial thing to worry and fret about. They were going to have a lifetime to get close anyways. She misses their easy going friendship, but not enough to give up her future place on the throne._

_The people in the line all come with gifts, each one grander than the last. And It’s here at this event when she first spies him. He’s pretty, in an alluring, enchanting way. Black hair curling around his eyes. His eyes, the most striking feature by far. As silver as the moon, unchanging and still. They glow so bright she envies them, envies their spark, their life._

_There’s something about him that enchants her, and she can’t drag her eyes away from him. Not everyone is staring at him, but she definitely is. She can’t place it, she feels like she’s seen this silver minx before. She doesn’t like him, and doesn’t feel bad about her unreasonable hate either.She can afford to do that. He’s too pretty, too ethereal, makes their grand palace room seem dull and boring._

_She glances up to the person beside her. He’s seated on a throne by her side, dressed in reds and gold, a heavy crown on his head. Representative of his birthright, of his gift. He looks bored, not enjoying himself one bit. But his eyes show that there’s no anger. Just a solid, unchanging gold._

_“Would it kill you to smile? ”She murmurs, eyes fixed on that annoying, silver thief. There’s a joke here, but her delivery isn’t right. Her words fall flat and as dull as the room seems. It’s when she doesn’t get an answer, she looks up again, only to find him staring too. She pays it no mind. She feels anxious as he approaches the throne._

_He’s graceful, dressed in deep blue robes that contrast with their reds. They match his silver eyes. He must be a representative from somewhere far, she can only assume. When he bows down, holding the folds of his robes up, she notices that his hands are wrapped in bandages. How peculiar._

_“Blessings and glory be upon the holy empire,” He murmurs, and even his voice is musical. The gift he presents is lovely, and still not as lovely as him. She hates him, hates how he composes and carries himself. When he walks away, she lets out a breath of air she didn’t know she was holding._

_It’s when she glances to her side, she notices how his eyes track the blue robes, watching him with an unreadable expression. And it’s at this event, where she watches his eyes morph from gold to orange, a voice in her head questions what she sees. To which, she doesn’t have an answer. She sees a man, the man she’s supposed to marry, look as if that’s the last thing he wants to do._

☾

Junmyeon’s clothes are too heavy. They weigh him down in so many ways he’s sure his arms are falling numb due to the thick material. He’s been in them and socializing for hours now. The sky had darkened a long time ago, and he can only assume the celebration will go on for a few more hours, at most. He keeps his thoughts along a similar, useless, vein in order to distract himself from the festivities all around him.

The event leans towards something more formal, delegates from all sound greeting Junmyeon with warm smiles and chilly, inquisitive eyes. He flits around the crowd, drink in one hand, Yixing in the other. The prince is more than happy to carry most of the conversation, leaving Junmyeon to be blissfully unaware of the prodding questions and probing eyes. 

“Ah, here’s someone I want you to meet.” Yixing murmurs, and it drags Junmyeon back to his unappealing reality. Although the words do spark curiosity within him. He’s been trying to find the people Yixing spends most of his time with these days, up to his nose with thick books on customs and traditions from the different galaxies. “Minseok!” He calls out, a smile already forming on his face. 

Interesting. Junmyeon glances at the man standing a little ways from them. He’s a little bit taller than Junmyeon, and inky black hair cut short. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by the heavy robes even though he’s not accustomed to them. When he turns around towards Yixing, Junmyeon freezes. 

His eyes were his most striking feature by far. At first glance they looked like they were a sickeningly familiar shade of purple, but when fixed on Yixing they were infinitely lighter. “Yixing,” He smiles slowly, and Yixing tugs Junmyeon past the groups of people. Maybe Junmyeon is seeing things in the rush of reaching him, but for a second he could swear that when Minseok’s eyes see their interlocked hands, they darken. “Blessings and glory be upon the empire,”

Purple. Junmyeon suddenly sees his Mother’s hand outstretched towards him. Purple. Her hands were stained with purple magic, and blood. Purple. She’s got a hand wrapped around—

Minseok bows deeply, and Junmyeon feels rooted to his spot. As if the vines from a tree were all tied up and tangled around his feet. He feels nervous, almost. A creeping feeling crawling up his spine, so strange and unexplainable he can only blame his nerves. Maybe it’s because of how happy Minseok looked when he saw Yixing. Or maybe Junmyeon was just imagining things. He can’t shake off the wave of anxiety that washes over him. He keeps seeing flashes of his dream. 

_What do you see?_ He hears it so clearly, as if someone beside him is asking. _Danger. Uneasiness._ Junmyeon wants to reply, but that’s what he feels, not sees. He wants to ban the stupid dream from his memories.

Yixing pays back his respects with a smaller bow, he didn’t have to be so grand due to his inheritance. “As always, it’s very nice to see you, Minseok.” He turns to Junmyeon, and the smile on his face is so genuine Junmyeon has to try to reciprocate it even though he doesn’t feel right. “Minseok is the representative, he’s been very helpful in conveying and convincing their king to join the peace treaties. He’s the eyes and ears, so to speak.” 

Eyes. Eyes like Minseok’s deep purple ones, that seem to be boring into Junmyeon. 

Minseok’s planet was similar to their own in terms of power. They had a tight grip around the necks of many sections of the universe, and were known for their warriors— who were as cold and ferocious as a harsh winter. Unafraid and resolute. The opposite of Yixing’s armies, who were blessed with fire and rage.

Junmyeon wants to respond, but his words are stuck in his throat, and he’s starting to feel a bit light headed. He just holds Yixing’s hand tighter, in an attempt to ground himself. He nods as his answer, for once finding comfort in how he’s used to faking it. He tries to slow his breathing down, to get his heart to stop pounding so loudly. Everytime he looks at Minseok he sees an echo of his past. 

If Junmyeon was being honest with himself, and he rarely was, something about the way Minseok looks at Yixing seems too happy, too warm for someone who’s relationship with the prince was solely based on negotiations. He won’t bring it up to Yixing, won’t embarrass himself like that. But the thought still bothers him, and it just doesn’t sit right. 

Or maybe, the problem is Junmyeon himself. He’s clearly starting to spiral. Can recognise the way his thoughts are jumbled and how he can’t look anyone in the eye. He’s very familiar with this feeling of wanting to run and hide. He can feel the memories of his dream trying to resurface, and he has no time to wonder why he’s been thinking about it all day. 

“Please, you’re too gracious. You deserve most of the credit yourself,” Minseok smiles warmly, and then his eyes flit over to Junmyeon. “But I’m afraid we haven’t met…?” 

“You forgot to introduce us, Yixing.” Junmyeon reminds him, he can feel a headache building up from behind his eyes. “I’m Junmyeon,” He bends slightly in greeting. 

“Minseok,” he smiles, and Junmyeon can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. There’s something so very predatory in the way he smiles, and Junmyeon can see in his hauntingly purple eyes how the gears in his brain are turning fast. Producing thoughts Junmyeon can’t read, and quite frankly, doesn’t want to. He’s not looking away, and Junmyeon refuses to be the first to break eye contact, even if the room is starting to swim. 

“You must be one of the peace delegates?” Junmyeon tries to get the conversation flowing, for Yixing’s sake. 

“Quite right,” Minseok is seizing Junmyeon up, his purple eyes flitting up and down as if he’s scanning Junmyeon for signs of sickness, or weakness. “You two seem quite close,” He changes the topic, his voice smoothing over the words Junmyeon wants to say. 

Almost as if he’s out of control, he drops Yixing's hand, his own hands burning. _Like the dream,_ a voice whispers in his mind. Minseok quirks an eyebrow at him, and Junmyeon knows it’s not out of jest. Something was wrong. How big of a failure is Junmyeon, that he can’t even get himself together for one night? It’s only been a matter of minutes and he has been reduced to a trembling mess, with a pounding heart and a sharp headache. 

“Very,” Yixing begins, a fond smile already forming on his face. While it warms Junmyeon’s heart that the smile is directed for and because of him, he can’t help but feel the need to get out of here. Now. 

Without thinking he bows one last time. “It was a pleasure to meet you,” He ignores the confusion on Yixing’s face when he glances at him, giving him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I, earlier a messenger was… looking for me,” He turns to Yixing, scrambling for words. “I have something to attend to.” 

It’s a lie, and the way Yixing’s eyes narrow indicate he knows. Junmyeon will certainly never hear the end of it from him later, but without letting Yixing answer, he walks away. He can feel Minseok’s eyes on him, watching his shaky legs, with every step he feels like the floor will crack and swallow him whole. He tries to maintain a slow and steady pace, but with the way his legs are shaking he doubts he can't make it out of the grand room. He quickens his pace as if that’s any help. 

The people around him are blurring together. They wish him, attempt to talk and reach out but Junmyeon doesn’t want any of it. He dismisses them with a quick smile and nods, letting them all assume for themselves why he’s leaving. It’s up to them to speculate, but someone will make sure to cover it up. There are plenty of excuses that could be made and used, the most believable being that Junmyeon simply was not feeling well. 

Because that was the truth. 

He barely makes it to the hallway, the weight of his clothes are starting to hurt his shoulders. He sheds a layer off but the pressure is still there. The ache, his head aches, his eyes ache, and he’s stumbling through multiple hallways until he reaches the golden doors of his room. When he finally manages to open the golden double doors and shut them with his shaking fingers, his legs give in and he’s collapsed on the floor as if he has no other choice, right in front of his mirror. 

The floor feels cool against his skin, and the tremble in his fingers just won’t go away, but now his vision is making it worse. Blinking in and out of darkness, He feels too drained to think, too tired to move. Continues to lay there on the floor even though his massive bed is just a bit away from him. He tries to slow down his breathing, but he’s too occupied to focus. 

He’ll probably need to apologise to Minseok later, his behaviour had been rude towards what was apparently a very esteemed guest. He can’t explain why he feels something, anger, fear? Stir in him at the thought of Minseok, who resembled his icy planet until he was looking at Yixing. He can’t explain why he started tumbling downhill from that encounter, so much so that he can’t pull himself up from the bedroom floor.

Maybe it was Minseok’s eyes that unnerved Junmyeon. Those memorable purple eyes that reminded him of his Mother. The same shade of purple as the magic that almost killed him. By the sun, he was seeing his Mother everywhere today. In his dreams, in the eyes of a stranger. Everywhere he didn’t want to see her, she was there.

Junmyeon’s fingers curl as his headache seems to radiate through him, and through the mirror he sees how badly he looks. Sprawled on the floor, sweaty and shaking as if he’s extremely sick. He’s pale, and if he squints he’d be a close match to the silvery hue in his dream. Silver. Silver eyes, shining skin. Purple. Purple eyes, and a mother who wanted him dead. 

Junmyeon shuts his eyes, giving in to the darkness, choosing to scrunch his eyes closed instead of letting the dark spots slowly consume his vision. It doesn’t help him relax, but he feels himself slowly slipping out of consciousness with each wave of pain. Even if he wanted to climb onto his bed, he can’t. He’s stuck lying on his floor, willing himself to pass out. 

_What do you see?_ And this time, Maybe, Junmyeon knows the answer _: pain_.

☾

_She’s taking deep breaths, to try and cool her anger. She’s not paying attention to what’s happening. It’s some royal banquet for all she cares. It’s not like her to not know the purposes of their celebrations, but she’s felt off all day. He hasn’t talked to her for most of the evening, he’s making it obvious that they aren’t natural. Was he doing it to spite her?_

_She couldn’t understand why he had gotten so mad, his eyes turning red when she suggested they try to play their marriage up a bit, for the sake of convincing all their alliances that the kingdom was in good hands. Maybe it was for her own personal gain, but even that was more for their gain than her own._

_He’s never looked at her like that before. She had seen it countless times directed at servants, his own parents on a rare occasion, but never her. She was always proud of that. He was always happy with her._

_There’s something wrong. His eyes have long since cooled down to the brooding orange they’ve stayed all night, a clear sign that there was something bothering his mind. But when she pressed she received no answer. Maybe it’s because of her suggestion, but she can’t possibly understand why._

_Regardless, she could never read him. It was infuriating, what had gotten him so riled up? It was a harmless suggestion. A smart one too. That was why she was chosen after all, because they were close, because they were compatible, because she could work it out. Figure out what made other planets tick, figure out what made him tick. She’s seething by the time she’s crossed the ballroom floor, mind spinning through the possibilities._

_Even after years of friendship she could never understand him. It was impossible. He was an enigma wrapped in complex puzzles and complicated emotions. She spies him through the different groups who talk, and he looks up._

_They make eye contact, and when he smiles at her (a formality, really. She can tell.), She smiles back._ Good. _His doesn’t reach his eyes, and hers doesn’t either._ Not good, but could be improved. _She can’t help it if it doesn’t look genuine. She’s worrying now, she never worries._

_She tries to reassure herself. She loves him, and he would love her._

☾

This time when Junmyeon dreams, it feels more like a warped reality than a dreamy haze of confusion. He can steady himself and gather his thoughts for a few moments before it proceeds in a normal dream like fashion: where he’s pushed through all things random and he’s whipped around from one place to the next with no connection.

He sees glimpses of himself in a mirror. Silver. Silver eyes. There’s a purple cloud looming over him. Sees red. Red eyes, an eternal fire burning through the night. His hand cradles a nameless face and suddenly he’s being ripped away, floating through the air and falling into a room.

He has no idea where he is, a lush room surrounded by grand furniture. A bed that had no end, gold designs painted on the ceilings. He catches a depiction of the moon, bright and shining amidst the stars painted as well. 

He’s sitting down on a chaise lounge chair, the colour is a deep red Junmyeon feels like he’s seen before. There’s this unsettling feeling, as if he’s not supposed to be here. Not supposed to be waiting. When he glances down at his intertwined hands, he notices they’re silvery again. He brings his right hand closer to his eyes, trying to examine the strange markings etched on them. They’re certainly chilling, engraved eyes staring right into him. They seem angry somehow, glaring at Junmyeon as if he’s done something wrong. 

He hasn’t, has he? He can certainly think of many things he’s done wrong. The biggest being leaving his own birthday celebration. Leaving right in the middle of a conversation with a person Yixing had wanted him to make. He certainly feels wrong, and it’s when he acknowledges that, the thought hits him.

This isn’t his hand. This isn’t his body. It’s enough to make him want to wake up. He wishes to get out of here, or wake up. But he’s not too sure he’ll enjoy what he wakes up to, and he knows better. Forcefully waking himself up will only open himself to vulnerabilities. Yixing had made sure he understood that. Right now he is walking the line between the mortal and the godly realm. Waking himself up would be far too dangerous. 

He doesn’t recognise where he is, has no recollection of ever being in a room like this. There are no windows. No mirrors. Just a big, barren room. It’s not his room. Not his room in the palace, and based on how foreign it feels to this dream version it’s not it’s room either. 

There’s a knock on the doors of the room. Suddenly he’s getting up from the chair, as if his legs have a mind of their own. No, as if this dream version of him has a mind of its own. He’s stretching his legs out, but when he tries to stop his body ignores him. Choosing to walk hesitantly to the door, why was he, _it,_ so hesitant? When he opens the door his heart stills (that had to be a reaction from him), and he can’t control the little choked sound that makes its way out of his mouth. 

Standing outside the door are a group of guards— he can only assume based on the way they stand proud, armour gleaming— staring at him with deep empty eyes, and mouths stitched together. He can’t drag his eyes away from their mouths, staring at the little stitches that run across. They part, forming two lines, as someone walks through the empty space. 

Someone familiar considering how his body reacts. Junmyeon can’t tell if his heart is pounding because of himself, or if it was this dream version of him. He bends down, not by choice, again, and he can’t see the face of the person. Remaining bowed until the stranger’s feet are nearly touching his own, and Junmyeon realizes he recognises the clothes the stranger is wearing. Thick and heavy, similar to the robes Junmyeon himself had been wearing earlier. The clothes of a royal. 

When Junmyeon finally looks up, he’s met with golden eyes. Golden eyes he’s seen before, a mouth set in a stern line, a face so achingly familiar it’s no wonder it’s showing up in Junmyeon’s dreams. 

Yixing. 

No, maybe not. This Yixing looks angry. Has an older look in his eyes, which seem to be burning right into Junmyeon’s soul. Like the sun, twin suns glowing and burning. There’s a heavy crown on his head, a glistening ruby that sits in the middle of the front. He’s clearly agitated, Junmyeon can see as much. 

When Junmyeon takes a step back to let him into the room, the ground beneath his feet cracks.

Yixing steps past Junmyeon into the room, and the the door is closed. There’s a few moments where they just stand, hovering uncertainly by each other. 

The dream Yixing is talking. His mouth is moving but Junmyeon can’t hear the words being uttered, they seem to be pouring out fast and harsh. This wasn’t his Yixing, his Yixing would never do that.

The more he talks the bigger the cracks under Junmyeon’s feet grow.

Junmyeon feels his lips moving, but he can’t hear the words coming out. Whatever he’s saying is said with urgency, something he can only guess based on how ‘his’ hands wring together on their own accord. 

His words seem to frustrate the dream-Yixing, who throws his hands up in what Junmyeon can only assume is exasperation. There’s something that catches his eyes, on his left hand is the same markings on Junmyeon’s right. A bit more, if anything. His falling sleeve reveals dark marks that extend up to his forearm. When he turns to look at Junmyeon again, his eyes are blazing red.

He walks up close to Junmyeon, advancing until Junmyeon is pressed against the wall. Dream Junmyeon seems to be just as shocked, a hand placed on the others chest. 

He’s saying something, fast and heated and agitated, looking down at Yixing’s feet. When he looks up, locking eyes with Yixing’s demanding ones, the floor gives in. 

Suddenly Junmyeon is falling into darkness. A giant chasm with no apparent end. He sees the dream-Yixing standing on the edge of the chasm, watching as Junmyeon screams and stretches his hands out in shock. His red eyes flash purple, and it’s the last thing Junmyeon sees before his back hits _something._ Purple. Purple like Minseok’s eyes, purple like his Mother’s hand. 

He can feel it wrap around his throat. 

Surprisingly, it’s not a hard landing. He manages to get himself upright, still sitting down. 

A hand emerges from the darkness, it extends down to a forearm. It’s a strange image for Junmyeon to process, half a floating arm, silver and glowing, outstretched directly in front of him. Without thinking he grabs on to it, and it pulls him up with an unusual amount of strength. The hand begins to slip out of his grasp. When he looks closely at it, he sees the same eyes engraved onto it. 

He can make out a figure in the shadows, but the only thing he can clearly see is the hand.

“Wait,” Junmyeon blurts out, and he can feel his heart hammering. His own, not a version of himself he can’t comprehend. The hand points downwards, and when Junmyeon looks down he’s met with his shadow, extended across the surface. Shadow in the darkness, that meant there was light behind him. 

When he turns around he’s met with a blinding light. It looks like the same light from his other dream. A hand slides over his eyes, it’s cold to touch. 

“What are you?” Junmyeon mumbles into the darkness, “First you accuse me of being blind, but now you are the one blinding me?” His frustration is dripping through the cracks on his voice, and in reply he gets a chilling laughter. An oddly soothing voice, but the laughter settles in his bones, a chill running down his spine. 

“I thought you couldn’t see anything?” The hand slides up, and when Junmyeon stares now, it’s not as bright. Still bright enough to burn into his eyes, but not enough to make tears fall. He can’t stare at it for long, and when he breaks his eyes away he feels a presence beside him. 

“You’re getting better,” the pretty voice marvels, and there’s hope in his voice. A hope Junmyeon doesn’t understand. 

“I don’t understand, I still don’t see anything,” 

“You’re remembering. Waking up.” And Junmyeon has questions, too many. What does he mean _waking up?_ But he can’t seem to get the words out. “You’re opening your eyes.” 

_Remembering?_ “Waking up?” he bites back his frustrations. This is pointless. He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to. “Why talk in riddles? Can’t you just tell me?” He’s crazy. Junmyeon is slowly starting to lose it. This was a _dream._ Why is he taking this so seriously?

“It’s time to wake up Junmyeon.” it sounds like thousands of voices, surrounding him from every side. They sound so pitiful, filled to the brim with sadness. “You need to, for your own good.”

“What if I don’t want to?” He challenges, but his voice wavers. 

“If you stay here too long, you may never leave.” 

“And if I don’t want to leave?”

“It’s not like you have a choice,” the voice replies cooly, and when Junmyeon gives the light another glance, and can clearly see it now. Silver bars extending from the ground up, there’s no sign of them ending. A trap. A cage. Keeping him locked inside. 

**_Break us out._ **

Junmyeon wakes up with a start. Shooting up from the bed, eyes wide and sweating, and he briefly wonders how many times he’s going to wake up like this. It feels like something is looming over him, big and filled to the brim with impending doom. He can’t shake off the feeling that there are eyes everywhere. Purple and haunting. He feels his heart hammering in his chest as he looks around the room.

Junmyeon looks up to the ceiling he takes in the white and yellow spots painted on the ceiling. Imitating the biggest constellations, suns and moons and stars. They remind him of the Gods. Forgotten now, and only remembered in tales. It’s been so long so he’s thought of the Sun God’s fury. He’s in Yixing’s room, rumoured to be the grandest room in all the planet— no, all the galaxy.

He tries to calm his pounding heart with slow breaths. The headache from earlier lingers still, but at the least his vision has stopped wavering. 

Junmyeon is brought back to reality by the sound of something being shut, he turns to see Yixing placing a thick book on the dark nightstand beside the bed. Eerily enough, Yixing manages to do this while staring right at him. His eyes are a darker gold, churning with thoughts. He doesn’t say anything to him, just stares fixedly at Junmyeon. 

He’s sitting beside him. He’s not in the bed with Junmyeon, instead sitting on a plush red chair that’s beside him. He had questions. Junmyeon can see them lurking behind the anger that simmers in his eyes. 

Junmyeon is reminded of the dream-like version of Yixing, who’s eyes had burned with a similar, just more intense anger. Junmyeon can see it now. A sun in Yixing’s eyes, twin suns, glowing and burning.

It’s burning into his mind, his soul. Junmyeon attempts to speak, but nothing comes out. Yixing moves quickly, standing up to help Junmyeon lean back, fluffing the pillow behind him before he sits in front of Junmyeon. His legs dangling off the bed. 

“Are you alright?” Yixing asks the question so directly, voice clear, although there is an edge evident. He looks Junmyeon up and down. Junmyeon tries again to speak, but nothing comes out. He tugs the fluffy comforter higher to cover himself. He’s in disarray, confusion. Hair tousled messily, face sweaty, with his robes falling off his shoulders. 

He asks the question as if the answer is obvious. Portrays it in such a way that Junmyeon feels like he has no choice but to confess to crimes he hasn’t done, and say no, he isn’t alright. 

“Junmyeon,” Yixing looks back at Junmyeon, pulling his legs up and crossing them on the bed. And now there’s no anger in those orange eyes of his, but something else is there. Confusion? Junmyeon can’t place it, but he leans towards frustration. He hasn’t seen genuine emotion is so, so long. _Be honest._ Is what Yixing means to say. What comes out is: “Tell me what happened.” An order. 

Junmyeon stays silent, unsure of how to explain how he felt. 

“You left quite quickly, and not to mention, when checked up on a little while later you were sprawled out on your bedroom floor. Passed out. Fainted, I can only assume.” He says it airily, but he’s clearly bothered. “So don’t even try to tell me it’s nothing. I know you.” 

There’s something about Yixing that Junmyeon can’t refuse, maybe it was because he’s Junmyeons soulmate, perhaps it was because he was the heir, anything he commanded would be carried out ‘til the very end. Junmyeon finds himself unable to look away from those darkening eyes. 

“I—” Junmyeon rasps, lowering his gaze out of shame, choosing to look at the intricate gold designs creeping all over the red sheets on the bed. Yixing says nothing. Waiting for Junmyeon to speak. Merely shifting his position to sit closer to Junmyeon, the golden swirls swim in the silk as he shifts. His throat hurts, and it reminds him of… worse times. 

“Yixing,” His voice grates against his ears, Junmyeon tries desperately to speak, words failing him, unable to string together sentences, his thoughts are a jumbled mess. Yixing isn’t as close to him as he was in the dream. They’re not pressed chest to chest, and Junmyeon has to force himself to remember that those burning red eyes weren’t directed to him. 

Technically. 

“I couldn’t answer even if I tried.” He hopes it’s enough for Yixing to stop hounding him. It’s probably not. 

He inhales sharply, closing his eyes as he tries to slow his heartbeat down. Yixing is patiently waiting for Junmyeon to speak, observing him with sharp eyes. 

“Could you forget about it?” A useless plea. A last ditch attempt to avoid this conversation. His voice is still shaky, unused, but it’s also heavy. Clearly hinting that Junmyeon wants nothing more than to drop the conversation, forget about it, let it lie to rot and waste in Yixing’s mind. 

But Yixing is having none of it. The red flash in his eyes indicate that that's the opposite of what he wants to do. It reminds Junmyeon of the dream Yixing. The way his eyes glowed red, and that final flash of purple. 

Purple. Violets, flowers, Minseok's eyes, his Mother. It’s inescapable, he can't think of anything else. 

Yixing is silent, eyes smouldering. “You want me to forget it?” Yixing’s fingers start tapping the sheets, tapping out an invisible pattern. He’s thinking. Contemplating it, because it’ll make Junmyeon happy. “Will you be honest with me, _for once,_ if I do?

It’s a low blow, but he makes a fair point. Ignorance in exchange for honesty. “I’ll try.” 

“Oh you’re going to have to do more than that.” Junmyeon opens his mouth to interrupt but Yixing’s stony eyes meeting his makes him stop. “I saw you struggle to _breathe_ right in front of me. I didn’t forget to mention how you were found collapsed and dead to the world earlier, right?” It’s times like this, when the normally calm Yixing melts away and hardens into who he’s supposed to be— a ruler, a leader— Junmyeon can see why he’s perfect for the role. 

Junmyeon feels a drip of sweat run down his neck. “And while I am concerned, and would love to _forget it_ for your comfort, there’s only so much I can forego.” Yixing lashes out hotly, eyes burning into Junmyeon. Ah, his hidden temper was showing. 

Always, always burning. 

Junmyeon can feel the sun’s heat, and he feels his words burning into ash right on his tongue. When Yixing is right up close to him, eyes flaring, piercing into him. Yixing takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opens them they are gold again. 

“You have to tell me what happened.” This time the words are spoken clearly, strongly. A definite order rather than a plea. Junmyeon can feel his lip tremble, words waiting to tumble out. It’s not that he didn’t trust Yixing— no he strangely enough trusted Yixing so, so much— it’s just that he knows it sounds ridiculous. 

“I don’t trust Minseok.” 

“Why?” No hesitation, not even a pause between Junmyeon’s words and Yixing’s. 

_Because he makes me feel sick. Because the way he looks at you makes me uncomfortable. Because the way he looks at me makes me uncomfortable. I just don’t trust him. He reminds me of my mother. Remember Yixing? Remember how she tried to kill me?_

He doesn’t say any of the thoughts on his mind. “I—” Junmyeon tries to collect his thoughts, but his mind is elsewhere. He thinks about the silver hands from his dreams, the hand that helped him up. The way the dream-Yixing had stood at the edge, watching Junmyeon be consumed by darkness. “I just get a feeling…” It sounds ridiculous to him, even though he’s the one saying it. 

Yixing is tapping a nonsensical pattern with his fingers, “Does this have to do with your dream?” 

Nightmare.

“No,” Junmyeon responds, blinking. “No it’s, I just don’t—” 

“This isn’t influenced by your dreams either?” 

“I’m _telling_ you _no,”_ He cuts himself off, the skepticism all over Yixing’s face making him feel small. “You don’t believe me,” It’s a statement. And the reason why he didn’t want to say anything in the first place. 

“Can you blame me?” Yixing sighs, and this time when he looks at Junmyeon there’s a hint of pity. “It’s been a stressful day for Junmyeon, today always has been.” 

“It has nothing to do with my _dreams_ Yixing,” It had plenty to do with his dreams, if he’s being honest. They were the ones plaguing him with memories of purple magic, and strange beings asking him _what do you see? What do you see? What do you see?_ He doesn’t see anything. He just _feels_ everything. Overwhelmed, trapped, and most of all, for whatever reason, scared. 

“You were crying in your sleep. I can understand if you were feeling disturbed.” Yixing keeps on talking as if Junmyeon’s words aren’t being taken into consideration. He knows they’re not.

“It _wasn’t that.”_ Junmyeon insists, and there’s an edge evident in his voice. Angry, at himself. At Yixing for not taking him seriously. “He just, that interaction didn’t sit well with me.” 

“Didn’t sit _well_ with you? You _left_ before the conversation could even start!” Yixing retaliates. 

“You asked me to be honest!” Junmyeon’s hands squeeze the cover, so tightly his fingers turn white. Not silver. Not like his dream. 

Yixing’s jaw clenches, and he’s clearly holding back a tirade of words to ambush Junmyeon with. “And are you? Are you being honest with me? Because quite frankly I don’t think you are.” 

Junmyeon shoves the covers off him, wanting to get farther from Yixing. His headache is coming back stealthily. 

“Listen to me,” Junmyeon turns his head away from Yixing. _“Junmyeon,”_ He turns his attention back to Yixing. His eyes are churning orange. “Minseok is a very important ally for this kingdom. He’s essentially the key to obtaining our goal, do you get that?” He’s talking slowly and patient, as if Junmyeon is a child. 

“So what are you saying?” Junmyeon responds coldly, having none of it. 

“I’m saying you were acting off all night. All day, actually. I’m saying, give him another chance. He hasn’t done anything wrong. You were just… feeling anxious for whatever reason.” 

Whatever reason. He means his dreams. He means the images Junmyeon can’t get out of his head of the sun falling, and engraved eyes on hands, and a red, red burning anger. 

Maybe Yixing is right. Maybe he was on edge because of his strange dreams. Junmyeon wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, but even so the way he felt so sick to his core was different to normal. That was a direct reaction to Minseok and Minseok alone. 

“...Fine.” He says begrudgingly. “I’ll talk to him again.”

“If you still feel the same, we’ll figure out why.” 

“Right.” He doubts it. After all Minseok was the key to a universal peace between multiple planets across the galaxy. He can’t help but feel like Yixing will choose the Kingdom over Junmyeon, as he should. But at the same time, it feels like he’s choosing Minseok over Junmyeon, and the thought makes Junmyeon’s blood curdle. 

_“It’s not like you have a choice,”_ the words echo in his mind. Wasn’t that supposed to be the beauty of living in a peaceful, powerful planet? That you always had a choice?

☾

_“Hear me out, please?” She asks softly, trying to appeal to the side of him she knows. To the side of him who’s familiar with her. She can see her words slowly working their magic on him, from the way his tense shoulder relaxes a fraction. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. My words were thoughtless.”_

_“I thought you were better than that,” He shakes his head, and she can hear the hints of disappointment in his voice. Her nails dig into her palms, but she keeps her expression gentle. Anger, she can deal with. Disappointment? Not as much. But because it’s from him, she can be lenient._

_“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” her fingers curl around his hands, and it’s an intimate gesture. One she hopes can portray how sorry she was trying to feel. She can’t help but be wary of him. It wasn’t like him to not consider the kingdom first. Isn’t like him to brush her off to the side. She’s his closest friend, his closest companion. If he didn’t open to her then who would he open to? No one. She was the secret key to his feelings, the only one who had a chance to unlock his troubled thoughts. He was hers, wasn’t he? She had made sure of that._

_“I hoped as much,” there’s an edge in his voice, and she’s frustrated that she can’t pin it down._

_She could still feel the heart from his gaze burning into her, with the same intensity as the sun, Burning, burning, corroding and burning. There was something so haunting about the way his eyes had glowed, red and fixated on her for a few soul shaking seconds._

_And yet there was still a part of her that was so happy about how he had spared her a glance._

_“I just meant we should try, for the kingdom.”_

_“For the kingdom.” he repeats, and now there’s amusement colouring his voice. She swallows back her irritation. It wasn’t her fault. He loved her, she knew this. He was just adjusting. They would be back to the usual ease soon enough._

_“This is for our future,” She reminds him. “Not ours, but the kingdoms. We need to be a united front. No gaps, no chinks, just us, and our power. Your power. ”_

_There’s a curious flash in his eyes. “For the kingdom’s_ future.”

_“Right,” She smiles softly, feeling her nerves calm down. She had got to him, had broken off a little bit of that wall he had been steadily building around his heart. “Who better for the kingdom then us, right?”_

_“What if I regret choosing the kingdom?” It would be a serious question if not for the way his lips quirk up at the edges. “...Or what if the kingdom regrets me being chosen?”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous,” She lets out a little tinkering laugh, “If the Gods decided it, then that’s the way it should be.” She says it matter-of-factly, no doubt in her mind. “It’s your birthright, and now you’re finally playing the role you should.”_

_“What if I don’t want to play it?” The question is asked cooly, but she doesn’t miss the flash of red in his eyes. Strange. Strange. Strange. She pushes the thought aside, the priority was to get him back to her side._

_“Like I said, don’t be ridiculous. This is what you were meant to do.” She squeezes his hand. “This is what we’re meant to do._

_She can’t read his thoughts, has never been able to, but she’s grateful that he’s silent. A clear indication that she’s gotten through to him._

_She is blissfully unaware, that he is thinking of something else._ Someone _else._

☾

He manages to avoid talking for several days.

The gardens. _His_ gardens. That is where Junmyeon meets Minseok next. He’s been steadily avoiding him, and Yixing has been too busy with sudden meetings to try and push Junmyeon to go talk to him. He’s been avoiding Yixing too, trying to gather his thoughts and get himself together. It isn’t working. He spends his nights either locked away in his dreams, or forcing himself to be awake. 

He didn’t think they could get stranger, but they do. They’re filled with fires and darkness. Ending the same way, Junmyeon in the dark, being asked what he sees. The hand is slowly starting to grow into a body, silver and pretty. He sees blue robes, but still no face. He swears there’s a flash of silver where the eyes should be, but it all makes no sense. 

_What do you see?_ And the last time, Junmyeon noticed bars all around them in the darkness. As if he’s in a cage. When he answered that the light was dimming, and he could see what he thinks is a cage, he received no answer. He tries not to think about it. Regardless, now he has bigger things to worry about. Like why Minseok has managed to make his way into his private garden.

Junmyeon loves the garden Yixing gifted. Considers it to be a high honour. Filled with dark plants and radiantly glowing gold and silver flowers that were native to the planet. He admires them and what they stand for: a gift chosen to him by someone he loves. 

The peace he normally feels is robbed from him when he sees an unfriendly sight. 

Minseok. 

Casually strolling in the gardens, stopping every now and then to admire a flower. Junmyeon watches for a few seconds as Minseok delicately holds a gold one in his fingers, as if he’s scared to harm it. If Minseok touched anything else Junmyeon might be pushed to just burn the whole garden down. He doesn’t understand how he’s made it in there, the guards were terrible at doing their jobs. 

He takes a deep breath. _This is for Yixing_ he reminds himself. It’s not enough to calm him down, but he hopes it’s enough to get him through the conversation. 

“Minseok,” he greets politely, but he hopes his eyes show that it’s anything but. 

“Hello Junmyeon.” He bows, and at least Junmyeon can relish in the protection his status holds. “Are you feeling better?” Minseok’s eyes stray to a golden rose, it shines so brightly Junmyeon can see the reflection in his purple eyes. There’s a mysterious fondness in them that Jinmyeon doesn’t want to uncover. 

“Quite,” He doesn’t now. He can feel his stomach churn at their proximity. Minseok’s eyes are rapidly changing hues every time he blinks, before they settle into a dark purple. So dark they look black. “I’ve come to apologise, my behaviour previously was...less than ideal.” 

_Because of you._

“No need to apologise, Prince Yixing explained it all to me. I relayed my concerns and well wishes, did he deliver them to you?” 

It takes all of Junmyeon’s willpower to keep his face neutral. Yixing had never told him this, maybe because he had been avoiding him. He’s not looking Minseok in the eyes, and is digging his nails into his palm to distract himself. “Yes.” A lie. Junmyeon has been telling a lot of those lately. “ I’m glad he did. I’m afraid I couldn’t catch you sooner.” _I wasn’t supposed to catch you anywhere. What the hell are you doing here in my garden?_

“No worries, I’m just relieved you’re feeling better.” Minseok smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Junmyeon bites his tongue and tries to give him a grateful smile. “Thank you for your concern.” 

Minseok smiles wider, and now Junmyeon can’t tell if it’s genuine or not. “Care to give me a tour of the gardens?” _My gardens!_ Junmyeon wants to scream like a spoiled brat. “It’s the most spectacular one I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” 

“Do you… see a lot of gardens?” It’s a stupid question. But he’s desperate enough to ask anything. Maybe they’re a personal interest of Minseok. Maybe they can bond over their love and appreciation for all things green and pretty. Or maybe, Minseok does know that this is Junmyeon’s garden and Junmyeon’s alone. Maybe, he’s just trying to provoke him. 

Minseok gives a shrug in response, and it doesn’t explain anything. “Something like that. This was just too pretty to not be seen.” 

“It’s only natural,” Junmyeon pauses to glance at the flower. It’s so bright it nearly hurts. Like the light in his dream. Bright and glowing and straining Junmyeon’s eyes. “Prince Yixing outdid himself with his gift this year.” 

“Gardens as a gift,” Minseok’s smile twists in amusement. “What a splendid honour.”” 

“Indeed.” Junmyeon wants to leave. Now. But he’s trapped being a supposedly gracious host.

“Speaking of gifts, I don’t quite believe I ever gave you a birthday gift, Junmyeon.” Something about the way his name drips off Minseok's tongue is unsettling. 

“Please, it’s not necessary.” Junmyeon wants nothing to do with Minseok’s gifts. There’s this twisting in his stomach that hasn’t left since the moment he laid eyes on Minseok, and he can feel his heart slowly pounding away. So loudly he wonders if Minseok can hear it.

“Of course it is! Your kingdom,” There’s something about the way Minseok says _your kingdom_ that has Junmyeon doubting his intentions. An underlying message he can’t interpret. “Has graciously let me stay for an extended period, I need to pay it back.” Minseok insists, and there’s this pretty purple light dancing in his eyes. He looks so happy Junmyeon doubts his own feelings. He can’t figure out why he’s so bothered. “I have many things to offer… and yet many don’t seem to suffice…” He ponders away while Junmyeon’s heart thuds. “What about a planet, yes, that’ll do.” 

Junmyeon feels dizzy. A planet? 

“On the edge of this galaxy, there’s a small, bountiful planet. It’s quite pretty, fields that stretch for miles, forest that look like that stuff dreams are made of,” 

This place sounds familiar. Too familiar. There’s only one planet Junmyeon knows of which is like this. Lies on the edge of the galaxy, a pretty, small, weak planet. A planet seized by conquerors. The planet where Junmyeon is from. Junmyeon’s old home. 

Junmyeon nods slowly. The whereabouts of Junmyeon’s origins are not public knowledge. Junmyeon knows for a fact that it’s a secret well kept by the palace, hidden away in files, written only once in a small history back shoved into the royal library. How the hell does Minseok know? Yixing must have told Minseok, why would Yixing tell him? To spite Junmyeon? Junmyeon’s head is starting to hurt again. A deep, throbbing sensation that he hates. 

“My kingdom and yours claimed it together,” Minseok’s voice is gentle, his painted fingernails stroking a flower. The very gesture makes Junmyeon’s skin crawl, as if the fingers were reaching out to him. He can feel them lurking all around him. Surrounding him like the voices that plague him at night. “And yours was gracious enough to gift it to us. And then it fell into my hands. How amusing.” 

It’s not amusing. Junmyeon feels something rise up in him, an anger so foreign and forgotten he can’t quite believe he’s feeling it. Simmering deep as if it’s not even from him. It makes his skin crawl, and he hates it. A fierce sort of protection. Just how powerful is Minseok that a whole _planet_ could just _fall into his hands?_

The notion that his old home is sitting in Minseok’s grasping, sneaky hands, doesn’t bring any comfort. He despises the thought that Minseok has held onto it this whole time, and is bringing it up as if it’s an incentive to dangle in front of Junmyeon. A silent gloat, _‘I hold what you had. I’ll ruin what you desire. I’ll get what I want.’_

“How about I gift it to you? A spectacular gift isn’t it?” Minseok beams, white and shiny. It feels like the sky before the sun sets, dyeing the clouds in pretty pinks and purples that takes everyone’s breath out of their lungs. 

Like their first encounter, Junmyeon starts to feel a sudden wave of sickness. He tries to clamp it down but he can’t. His hands are already starting to tremble.

It makes Junmyeon feel sick. Rotten down to his very core. His breath is caught in his throat, his words weighing heavily on his tongue. Time flows slowly between them, sticky like honey and unbearable to Junmyeon’s already tense figure. “You want to gift it to _me?”_ Junmyeon questions softly, giving Minseok an opportunity to take it back, to retract his statement and apologise for his ridiculous suggestion. _Take it._ He silently urges. _Take it and leave me alone._

“Yes, I’d say it’s fitting.” 

_“Fitting?”_ Junmyeon seethes, forcing all his rage into his balled fists and not his words and the expression on his face. This is not the place for him to reveal his emotions.Especially to a needed ally. He inhales sharply, swallowing back his frustrations. A slip of the tongue could severely mess everything up. “I’ll decline. Kindly.” 

“Kindly decline the kind offer,” Minseok smiles, and _this_ smile is more twisted. Sharp and pointed. Purple poison dripping from his words and right into Junmyeon’s own smiling mouth. “Are you sure?” 

“Quite sure.” Junmyeon feels chained to the ground, feet shackled to the very grass Minseok walks on. “If you’ll excuse me, I will be taking my leave now.” He breathes in slowly, as if his knees will give in and collapse if he doesn’t. It certainly feels that way. He’s trembling so badly he can only thank his long clothes for covering it up. He gives a parting bow. 

Minseok returns the gesture, bowing deeply to Junmyeon. When he’s back to his normal height Junmyeon can see his eyes properly, dark and churning with thoughts he’s not sure he wants to hear. “It was as lovely as always to see you,” A small smile. “Convey my regards to Prince Yixing.” 

“I will.” He won’t. 

“Thank you.” Minseok has to know he won’t.

☾

_“I don’t think I can do this,”_

_“Do what?” She doesn’t know what he’s talking about, has no clue why his golden eyes are so troubled. She has an inkling of an idea, but she refuses to dwell on it. She thinks of silver eyes, and the pretty voice they possessed._

_“Get married.” He swallows, “To you.”_

_The confession blindsides her. The words are too random and are dropped so suddenly she momentarily loses her breath. The pity in his eyes touches her heart like the painful, slow twist of a killer’s knife._

_It hurts._

_“You don’t mean that,” her voice is quiet now, the fight gone so soon. She thinks of how angry he’s been lately, his patience running thin even on a good day. The way he never looked happy with her. They didn’t need happiness, they needed stability. For the kingdom._

_He doesn’t respond, and she can see it now. As if the weight of the moon was on his shoulders. She moves towards him, resting a hand on his cheek. It falls down to his shoulder, and then his chest. “You don’t mean that,” she repeats, and she believes it. “You’re just tired, the meetings have been wearing you down.” her voice is soft, like she’s trying to lull him to sleep._

_“I do mean it,” His voice has a sharp edge to it now, as if he’s trying to force his words into her mind. “You know I do.” His eyes flash red._

_“I know you’re tired,” She reasons, stubbornly. “I know you’ve had a heavy burden to deal with. I know you’re trying your best for the kingdom. For the Kingdom’s future._ Our _future.” She is adamant, every word punctuated with harsh jabs. “And most of all, I know you.”_

_“You don’t,” The words are hushed, and said so suddenly she can’t quite believe them._

_“What?” No, refuses to believe them._

_“You don’t know me,” he repeats, firmer this time. She can see it now, the transition from pity to powerful, the way he looks down at her with those red eyes._

_“Don’t. Be. Ridiculous.” She hisses through her teeth. It’s the advice she’s been telling him for months, years maybe. It’s simple enough, why doesn’t he listen? Why does the warning not go into his thick, stubborn head? “Of course I know you! Who knows you better than me?”_

_Friendship was hardly worn out. They were close. Close until the announcement of their union. He should’ve been ecstatic but she had seen the way he looked. Shocked to his core, he covered it well, and she struggled to read it, but she did as much. It was her suggestion after all, the marriage. A simple idea whispered into the ears of the eager king. A suggestion that rolled off her tongue and right into his mind. Who else would be better to marry him? No one. She was a close friend, came from a noble family, had been trained and educated with the best. Alongside him._

_It was her idea to announce it at the grand banquet, her idea for him not to know. She had assured the King it would be fine, she knew it would be fine because she. Knew. Him. She knew he wouldn’t have so little class to reject it in front of important guests._

_There’s a name on his lips, ready to fall into her hands. She waits, impatiently as he stares her down. “Who knows you, better than me?” She repeats, and this time she brings him close by the collar of his robes. Her eyes scream with a challenge, daring him to say it. She silently urges him. “Who would be willing to go as far as I do, for you? Who loves you, more than me?”_

_“You don’t love me!” He yells, grabbing her prying hands and flinging them away. “You love the idea of me!” His voice is filled with anger. “You never loved me and I never loved you,” He spits out, the fury burning within him. With every word his eyes went darker morphing from the familiar gold to a fiery red, a deep red, a fascinating red. “Not in the way I love him.”_

_She takes a step back, her face changing from enraged, to blank. “Say his name,”_

_The Prince is taut with anger._

_“I deserve to know the name of whoever… poisoned your mind.”_

_“Poisoned my mind?” he repeats in disbelief. “These are my thoughts and my thoughts alone--”_

_“Say. His. Name.” She presses, hands balled into fists._

_He says the name quietly, and with so much care it hurts. She Doesn't need to know his name, to know who it is._

☾

He tries to keep himself occupied but all his thoughts are filled with Minseok, and his poisonous smile. He’s been keeping busy by tracking the man. Following him discreetly, trying to glean something, _anything_ from him without having to interact. Minseok lives a surprisingly ordinary life on their planet. His days are spent similar to Yixing’s, filled with meetings and royal banquets, important political duties, and reporting back to his kingdom.

It’s the reports, which catch Junmyeon’s attention. He always makes sure he’s around to snatch them, even for a few brief minutes. Call him delusional, but he just wants to make sure. If Minseok had Yixing fooled, there was no telling what he was capable of. 

When he’s not occupied with Minseok, he spends his time reading about the Gods. When he looks at the sun he can feel the Sun God’s anger, rage, built up and exerting itself through harsh rays of sunlight that blind Junmyeon. At night, the moon. Sometimes he cries alongside with it, others he prays that the Moon God will not let him fall back asleep. He checks book after book, story after story, searching in vain for names, any names to call the Gods by. Names had power. He knew this. 

Maybe if he finds their names, he can fix this, himself. Maybe they can help him pull himself together enough to be presented as a worthy match for Yixing. He’s noticed the stares. The whispers that follow when he walks through the hallway. The servants say he’s changed, the maids claim he’s just sickly. Everyone notices how Junmyeon is never there when Yixing seeks him out. 

Instead, Junmyeon keeps himself positioned in the shadows that have now become like a second home for him. Waiting for the secret letters that Minseok writes every other night. It’s easy for Junmyeon to get his hands on the letters. And significantly harder for him to read. They’re long and dense with information that just ends up hurting Junmyeon’s head. There are words in languages he can’t decipher, and strange detailings form the meeting which don’t add up. 

All it does is add to Junmyeon’s mistrust. The letters aren’t all too truthful, some statements contradict things Yixing had told Junmyeon in the past. He can’t believe the words on the pages, detailed accounts of hostility and underlying betrayals written so carefully, so thought out, that even Junmyeon believes it. It’s when Junmyeon has the letters clutched in his grasp, Yixing requests to meet him. 

It borders on a command. That’s how successfully Junmyeon has been avoiding him. He supposes it’s all thanks to how occupied the Prince is. Spending his days poring over ancient books between whatever break he manages to squeeze in between his several meetings, training sessions, social gatherings, and more. When he reluctantly goes to his room he’s surprised to see Yixing simply standing there, still in his training uniform. 

“Junmyeon,” Yixing greets, and Junmyeon knows just from one look that he’s fully aware of how Junmyeon is avoiding him. 

“Your highness,” He never calls Yixing that. He’s only calling him that to spite him, a small little jab is all Junmyeon can afford to do. He dips into a bow. “Blessing and glory—” 

“Oh please,” Yixing’s eyes flash orange, indicating the jab has worked. Junmyeon feels guilty over the amount of satisfaction that brings. “Don’t act so coy. Regardless, I trust you’ve been well?”

Junmyeon doesn’t dare to speak, not wanting to ignite the fire in Yixing. He twists his hands together instead. He’s starting to feel warm in his clothes. Ashamed, if he were to pinpoint the exact feeling. He had no remorse in avoiding and ignoring Yixing, until he was face to face with him. How stupid Junmyeon is, to think he could’ve gotten away with it. Yixing has always been perceptive, uncannily so when it came to Junmyeon.

“It’s not like I would know, considering how you’ve been avoiding.” Ah there it is, the bold remark that makes Junmyeon want to apologise. 

“Yixing—” 

“Spare me the excuses,” Yixing frowns, and he moves towards his window. Gazes at something Junmyeon can’t see. “I was genuinely worried you know.” 

_Right._ Junmyeon can’t even try to believe it, considering how quickly Yixing dismissed his thoughts last time. The feelings of wanting to apologise slowly starts to dissolve. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I really was,” Yixing pauses, and Junmyeon can see how he’s trying to assess the damage, fix what he’s done. See how willing Junmyeon is to accept his silent offering of peace. “Why do you think I’ve been busying myself with these?” He gestures to the books by his bedside table. 

Junmyeon glances at them, and recognises them immediately. They’re the same books Junmyeon has been analyzing for weeks now, tales about dreams and nightmares. Detailed accounts of creatures and visions. The tale of the Gods, in a written format. An ancient book, that still didn’t speak their names. Yixing shouldn’t have that book. That’s the one Junmyeon has kept in his room for years.

It bothers Junmyeon to no end. He hated that story now. Despised it. Despised the Gods, those nameless Gods. They should’ve been erased from history completely, not just their names. Their everything. Gone, Destroyed.

“Again with the dreams?” Now it’s Junmyeon frowning. He had to agree with Yixing on one aspect: the dreams were certainly adding to his...paranoia, if it could be called that. “This isn’t about that.” 

“Then what is it about?” Yixing doesn’t sound bored, or curious. Just indifferent. As if appeasing Junmyeon is just another tick on his checklist. 

“You dismissed me so quickly. My thoughts. My _feelings,”_ Junmyeon is so angry he can’t form his sentences, his words are coming out jumbled and messy. “He wanted to give me—” he can’t even finish the thought. The horrendous thought about the horrendous gift. _The letters._ He still has them. He thrusts them towards Yixing. “Look at these,” 

Yixing’s eyes scan a random letter for a few seconds, and in a span of seconds his expression morphs from confused to enraged. “Are these Minseok’s?” He demands, and Junmyeon reckons he must recognise the handwriting. Without another glance he sets them down on the bedside table. “You went through his personal letters?” 

“Did you even read them?” Junmyeon inquires, once again astounded by Yixing’s easy dismissal. 

Yixing shakes his head, “You said you would try to talk to him. He said it went well but you left so quickly he couldn’t even make sure you were alright.” He pauses, “And now you come here, and hand me the letters he sends to his _King,_ Junmyeon. Do you know what position that puts me in? How am I supposed to give these back?” 

“Give them _back?_ If you read them you would understand very clearly what you should do. And I said no such thing, and if you even knew what he did—” 

“Well what _did_ he do Junmyeon?” Yixing demands. “Instead of spinning tales why not just tell me?”

There's a headache building up in Junmyeon’s mind. Yixing’s words are starting to sound fuzzy. 

“He’s been lying to you Yixing, Deceiving you. He didn’t even tell you about his little gift idea, did he? Strange considering how _close_ you two are.” Bitter is not a good look on Junmyeon. 

Yixing raises his eyebrows. 

“He has my _home,_ Yixing.” Junmyeon blazes, and it’s been so long since he’s called that planet his home. Been so long since he’s admitted that he’s never felt like he belongs in Yixing’s palace. “And he wanted to give it back to me,” He can hear something ringing in his ears.

“Your home,” Yixing repeats, and Junmyeon can hear the question in voice. _But that isn’t your home, I thought this was? My home is your home._ Isn’t it? “Minseok doesn’t… Minseok doesn’t know about that.” The letters lay forgotten on the ground. 

“What do you _mean_ he doesn’t know? You told him, didn’t you?” The accusations don’t sit well with Yixing. 

“I told him no such thing. No one knows about that, Junmyeon. “How would he know? Are you… are you lying?” Yixing asks point blank, and Junmyeon can’t believe the statement. 

“Am I,” Junmyeon pauses, swallowing back his anger. “He makes me sick.” 

“How could he possibly do that when you’ve only interacted _twice?”_

“Are you being serious right now?” Junmyeon demands, and his hands are balled into fists, and he’s seeing red. Something cracks under Junmyeon’s feet. “You think I’m lying? What basis do I have to lie? How can you just… _dismiss_ me like that? I’m not lying, _He’s_ the liar. I'm telling you he _knows.”_

“I’m not dismissing it,” Yixing’s eyes flash red. “I’m just asking you _why?_ Or how? There’s no way.” Yixing’s answer is firm. 

“I. Don’t. Know. Why.” Junmyeon enunciates. His answer is firmer. 

Yixing’s eyes flash red— the red of a dying planet, the red of Junmyeon’s dead mother’s blood. He whirls around from the window, sliding the heavy black robes off his shoulders until he’s left with the lighter ones fluttering underneath from some source of wind. Yixing walks towards Junmyeon, casting the sword on his hip to his side as if it were a feather, as if it were as light as air. As if to remind Junmyeon of how strong he really was, how _powerful._ With every step he takes he seems to generate sparks, waiting to erupt into tall flames, until he’s right in front of Junmyeon. Face to face with him, the shadows cast on his face, making his expression chilling.

“Is there anything you do know? Anything regarding Minseok? These apparent lies he’s telling. Your feelings?” He asks plain and simple. Yixing isn’t afraid to hide anything, isn’t afraid to speak whatever's on his mind. After all, why _would_ he be afraid? He has no reason to fear and worry over his own opinions and questions. “This behaviour of yours is starting to worry me,” 

The ringing turns into a low humming noise.

“My _behaviour?”_ Junmyeon repeats incredulously. “What, you mean how I’m not complacent? How I don’t stand by your side like a good little _puppet_ anymore?” With every word Junmyeon gives Yixing a little push, the ground under his feet feels uneven. 

His words are like a slap to Yixing’s face, who blinks at him in shock. “My— a _puppet?_ Have I ever treated you as such?” He demands, and with every question his eyes darken. He grabs Junmyeon’s wrists, and forces him to look at his face. “I meant how spaced out you seem, how you shake every time I’m in the room, look at yourself Junmyeon! You’re trembling as if I’m going to kill you!” 

Junmyeon does look down, and he is shaking. Badly. But more than that, he’s imagining things. Little cracks under his feet, black lines running over the white marble floor. Junmyeon stays silent as Yixing takes a step closer to him, his face only a few millimeters away. 

“You’re trembling as if you’re scared of me.” There’s a caliginous edge in his voice. Ancient and foregin sounding, as if it’s not Yixing talking. Something older, wiser, has taken his place. It’s the transition from Yixing, to Prince Yixing. Junmyeon’s soulmate to Junmyeon’s King. 

The hum into a buzz, it irritates Junmyeon to no end. 

Junmyeon is trapped, wishing the ground would crack and break so he could fall and be given the gift of not having to answer. He still stays silent as Yixing’s eyes morph into something darker. The bright gold gone, transformed into a churning orange-red like molten lava. He notes in the back of his mind that he’s never seen Yixing’s eyes go fully black, fully consumed. Perhaps that was a good thing.

“Take a good look at yourself,” Junmyeon answers. “Would you not be scared, if you were me? You don’t believe me. You dismiss my thoughts, Yixing I’m telling you _I don’t trust him._ You can’t even be bothered to listen to your soulmate.” A very, very low blow. 

Yixing opens his mouth ready to snap before closing, not wanting to regret any poisonous words that might’ve snaked out of his mouth. They both maintain eye contact, Yixing breathing steadily compared to Junmyeon’s shaky breaths. 

His headache is not backing down. 

Yixing narrows his eyes, as if sensing that there was more to Junmyeon’s words, he always sensed something more behind Junmyeon’s words. More to the troubled expression caught on his face, more to Junmyeon. Something dark, forbidden, broody even. Lurking behind every single word he made. 

“Can’t even listen— are you listening? To _yourself?”_ Yixing presses, head tilted, breath ghosting over Junmyeon’s lips. He’s so close, so, so, close to Junmyeon that Junmyeon’s hands itch to pull him in, but he’s filled with too much anger to care. “You sound crazy, you’re acting _crazy._ Minseok didn’t even specify the planet’s name, did he? How would you even know?”

His words burn Junmyeon. He’s choosing the kingdom over Junmyeon. Minseok over Junmyeon.

The buzz intensifies, and Jjunmyeon sees flashes of light. 

“You need to push your personal feelings aside, we need him. The _kingdom_ needs him if we want to survive this century without being annihilated by a ruthless army—”

The sound is starting to hurt his ears, he can almost feel the humming. As if he’s wrapped in it. It suffocates, and he’s starting to struggle to breathe. 

“Enough!” Junmyeon yells, and suddenly the ground _cracks_ beneath his feet. There’s now warning, no loud rumbling noise but Junmyeon can feel it under his feet, Feels himself starting to fall. He thinks of the dream-Yixing, watching him over the edge. Just like his dream. 

But this is different. There’s a gasp— from Yixing— and suddenly Junmyeon is yanked towards him. Pressed against his chest and clutching his robes as he tries to process what just happened. He’s too scared to look behind him, and Yixing is holding him so tightly he can’t even move in the first place. 

The moment is gone, all the anger Junmyeon was feeling is now replaced by raw shock. There’s a tremble in his fingers that won’t go away, he’s clutching Yixing like a lifeline. He can feel the way Yixing’s chest rises, and falls. The silence is suffocating.

“Yixing,” Junmyeon tries, and Yixing slips his hand over Junmyeon’s eyes trying to block his sight. “What do you see?” Junmyeon whispers, he can hear it in his own voice now. Something ancient, foreign. An underlying tone of thousands of other voices. 

There’s a few beats of silence and before Yixing can answer there’s a booming sound against the doors. The guards, they must have felt something, maybe heard it. Junmyeon can’t recall if there was a noise. Just recalls the white noise and heavy silence that had happened before. They enter, and Junmyeon hears them halt to a stop. 

Junmyeon yanks himself out of Yixing’s grip, the other manages to hold him by his elbows but his vision isn’t blocked anymore. He whirls around, and is horrified by what he sees. 

A giant chasm, extending from the edge of Yixing’s feet to the beginning of the guards. It doesn't consume the entire floor, only the center of Yixing’s room. A good amount of the floor near the walls remains intact. Yixing’s bed has been swallowed by the hole, the book lay untouched. Junmyeon feels drenched in dread. He did this. Somehow this is his fault. 

He opens his mouth to answer the questions in the guard’s eyes, but Yixing cuts him off. 

“An earthquake, I can only assume.” Yixing says lowly, eyes trained on the chasm. It doesn’t seem to have an end. Just spirals into the darkness for eternity. “Call for the court magician, he should be able to fix this.” He glances at the guards, some of which bow, the others stay. “We’ll be fine. You’re dismissed.” The remaining guards leave. They can’t deny his orders. 

Yixing grabs Junmyeon’s hand, and Junmyeon can only grab it back, scared. He all but drags him out of the room, careful to bring Junmyeon no where near the edge of the chasm. Junmyeon wants to speak but his words are jumbled and caught in his throat. He did that. How? He doesn’t know. 

Yixing takes him down a series of hallways, the designs and paintings blurring together as Junmyeon’s thoughts spiral. When they stop, Junmyeon leans against the wall, trying to steady himself. “Yixing, I—” 

“Shh,” Yixing covers his mouth with his hands, eyes troubled. The gold burns into Junmyeon’s mind. They don’t look like Yixing’s eyes, they look older, and ancient. Wiser and all-knowing. “The walls have ears,” 

_What?_ Junmyeon mouths against Yixing’s hand, and Yixing carefully lifts it off. “What did I do?” If Yixing is taken aback by the words he doesn’t show it. Eyes blinking twice, three times, trying to make sense of Junmyeon’s words. Junmyeon feels so, so stupid. His chest is heaving from the physical effect of the words, and the _letters._ Swallowed into the ground. 

Junmyeon’s words are caught in his throat— silently choking him. They’re not allowing him to speak, not allowing them to breathe. It’s moments like this where Junmyeon despises himself, hates himself even. He had always been the weaker one, the one Yixing had to save. The one who couldn’t save himself. Yixing lightly holds Junmyeon’s arms as he wobbles slightly. Yixing’s eyes are unfocused, glassy. As if he was peering into another time, another world.

“Junmyeon—”

“Did I do that?” he questions so quietly, the whispers hidden between the two of them. 

Yixing doesn’t grace him with an answer. He probably knows Junmyeon doesn’t want to hear it. 

“Take a deep breath,” Yixing murmurs, and he pulls Junmyeon in closer. “You need to breathe.” 

The image is burned into Junmyeon’s mind. The cracks under his feet, the cracks from his dream. The chasm, leading to an endless tunnel of darkness. Yixing standing by the edge, eyes flashing purple. Yixing pulling Junmyeon in close, covering his eyes to prevent him from breaking. 

Junmyeon’s vision starts swimming from the lack of air, and all he wants is to will himself to stand up so he can still fight Yixing, argue that Yixing needs to leave him alone. Let Minseok go. And then maybe apologize. Apologize for the careless words that would pour out of his mouth. But instead, his body decides to give up on him. Legs shaking as they lose weight, darkness ringed red and orange creeping into his peripheral vision. He doesn’t miss the observant expression on Yixing’s face as he falls to the ground.

The last thing Junmyeon hears is Yixing’s voice. Low and ancient, he sounds older. Different. Marveling at something Junmyeon can’t comprehend. 

“You were right here all along…” and then quieter, “How could I have been so blind?”

☾

_She wants to meet him. Can’t get him out of her mind. She doesn’t spend her days occupied with thoughts of silver eyes and the gold eyes that always followed the possessor. But her nights are filled with flashes of silver and blue robes that morph into rivers and lakes._

_She’s not obsessed with him, he just plagues her dreams. She worries away about him, wonders why her Prince seems to like him so much. She can’t get the image out of her head. The way his gold eyes looked. Happy. He had looked happy. He never looked that happy with her._

_He loved him._

_She knew his name, knew everything about him. A God, said to love the moon. A moon God. Guardian. Ridiculous. The moon was nothing, just a silly puppet who had no control of their own fate. He wasn’t worthy. Not like_ she _was. She was worthy. Fit to be a ruler, fit to be beside the ruler._

_She’s got him now. She’ll get rid of that silver bug in no time, and it’ll be like he was never here. Gone from memories, erased forever. No recollection of him, his name, or what he stood for. Names had powers after all._

_When She approaches him he greets her easily. “Blessings and Glory be upon the holy empire,”_

_She wants him gone. Wants to ground him under her heel. She smiles, “Blessing be upon you,” and the lie flows easily from her mouth. “I’m afraid I’ve come to disturb your peace.”_

_He laughs a laugh so pretty that just for a moment, only a moment, she can see why the Prince is so taken with him. “The Prince has requested an audience with you.”_

_He blinks at that._

_“I would hurry if I were you, he seemed quite upset. It’s better if you don’t make him wait.” She makes sure she says his name, to his face, slowly. Taking a careful note of his reaction._

_She’s got him now._

☾

Junmyeon falls into the clutches of his dreams once more. He’s grown familiar with the tiring pattern. Fainting, succumbing to darkness, arising into a dream where he’s in a body that isn’t his. He recognises the hands now, silver and engraved with eyes. Makes note of his surroundings. He’s still not sure what he’s being shown, but they seem to be...memories.

Are they his? He doesn’t know. It doesn’t make sense that they’re his memories, locked away and hidden. Junmyeon has only ever been as old as he is now. He grew up in the palace, has never possessed hands like these, eyes like these. Silver and flashing everytime he looks in the mirrors of his dreams. 

This dream, memory, glimpse into another realty, is different to the rest. He can hear now, conversations, whispers that float past his eager ears. He walks hallways similar to those in the palace, his fingers gliding along the soft panels of the walls. Everywhere he goes, a rumour follows. 

He hasn’t seen the dream-Yixing since that one night, where the ground had cracked and swallowed him whole. He isn’t sure if he’s choosing to walk, or being forced to. 

Someone approaches him from afar, and everywhere she steps there are people bowing in response. Junmyeon’s body urges him to do the same. She reaches him in no time, and when Junmyeon lifts up he freezes. 

Purple eyes. Purple. The colour of Minseok’s eyes.The colour of the magic that almost killed him. Bold and flashing with curiosity. There’s a look on her face he can’t quite describe, but she looks _hungry._

“Blessing and Glory be upon the holy empire,” The words fall out of Junmyeon’s mouth. They’re not his own. So similar to the greeting he says. 

She smiles, but there’s a sense of unrest. She looks unhinged. “Blessings be upon you,” It doesn’t sound like she means it. “I’m afraid I’ve come to disturb your peace.” 

A pretty laugh falls from Junmyeon’s mouth, but it’s not genuine. 

She smiles, and something in Junmyeon’s chest clenches. His heart, he thinks. Her eyes flash purple, and there’s a lingering threat. “The Prince has requested an audience with you,” “I would hurry if I were you, he seemed quite upset.” She pauses, and looks at him carefully. “It’s better if you don’t make him wait, _Suho.”_

Junmyeon freezes. 

Suho. 

The name is so familiar. 

Suho. 

Where has he heard it from? He thinks of his home, his Mother, the tales of the moon and the sun. The tale of the Gods. 

_“Suho.”_ Junmyeon repeats, and his eyes open. 

_The name of the Moon God._ The one ripped from his lover. The one who spent his lifetimes mourning. 

_Suho._

He’s still dreaming. Eyes opened towards the black darkness that’s become a familiar sight. He sits there, heart pounding. He doesn’t want to say it again, names had power after all. But this name weighs on his tongue. Heavy, foreign, and forgotten. He doesn’t want to say it. He should. He doesn’t want to say it, but it’s plaguing him. 

_It described two Gods, destined to love yet destined for pain._

Junmyeon’s hands grasp through the darkness for something, anything, the silvery figure who normally resides here. 

_Destined to love yet destined for pain._

“It’s you, isn’t it?” 

_Forced to live out centuries, lifetimes, away from each other. A repeating cycle._

“Suho.” Junmyeon says finally, his voice ringing through the pressuring silence. 

_In the lifetimes they met, disaster struck._

There’s movement beside Junmyeon, and he doesn’t want to turn and look. He can see blue robes in his peripheral vision. 

“You’ve finally remembered,” the person says, and when Junmyeon looks up he’s met with darkness, and two silver eyes snap into his focus. 

Along with someone who looks exactly like him.


	2. Chapter 2

Junmyeon doesn’t know if he can sink into the darkness anymore. Wishes with all his might that he can just wake up, wake up from this nightmare. This horrible recurring dream, wake up and not have to face the reality — ironic because this is a _dream_ after all— that faces him. 

His fears lie in what, no, _who_ is front of him. Silver eyes that look down on him, silver eyes that burn into him. Silver eyes that represent Junmyeon’s fears and more. “No,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “You don’t— you’re a _myth.”_

The God, or so Junmyeon believes, looks at Junmyeon with pity. “Not quite,” He hums, and his voice is pretty. Enchanting, even. It rings out between them, and a pretty melody ringing in the never ending darkness that Junmyeon wants to swallow whole. He thinks hard about the story, tries to conjure up as many details as he can, but he produces white noise. Blank, emote, and desolate. 

“You’re not supposed to exist,”, scrambling up to his feet. It’s messing him up. He’s staring at a face so like his and yet so different. There’s a certain degree of grace he doesn’t have in its movement. It. Not Junmyeon, it. A God. It. _Suho._ “You—,” he can barely make his words out. 

“How will _I,”_ He cuts himself off, having a hard time processing. “If you’re here that means…” _I’m doomed?_ Is what Junmyeon wants to ask. It’s the question that hangs off the tip of his tongue, but he’s not going to ask it. Refuses to believe that this is the fate that was handed him to him. “The myth is true.” 

The God quirks an eyebrow at Junmyeon, and his eyes are flashing silver. They glow in the dark, burn into Junmyeon’s eyes. “A terrible fate,” He murmurs, staring at Junmyeon, there’s too much sadness in his eyes. Junmyeon can clearly see the different lifetimes they weigh heavy on his heart. He can’t imagine it, the love and loss the God has faced. Tries not to imagine it, considering how it’s fate is now something that has been cruelly handed over to Junmyeon. 

A God. In _him?_

“Why are you here?” Junmyeon whispers, and he thinks about the dreams that plagued him.“Why didn’t you… show yourself?” 

“I tried,” He’s not a God of many words, apparently. He brings his hand up, silver magic lingering on the emptiness after his movements.Pressing his hands against Junmyeon’s forehead, he keeps his eyes locked on him. “You’ve got a strong mind, Junmyeon.” Junmyeon sees flashes of the dreams that plagued him. The person who was him but wasn’t. The silver eyes, the engraved hands. It wasn’t him, it was Suho, he was living through Suho’s memories. “There weren’t many ways for me to reach you… I’ve been trapped for so long,” He pauses, removing his hand. “So long. Can’t express myself often.” 

_A glimpse into a problem, or solution. Wisdom gifted by the Gods. Forgotten memories resurfacing. The worst way to die in this kingdom, would be to die in your sleep. Chained to an eternal darkness brought by a curse, or worse._

“Trapped here?” Junmyeon looks up, and he sees it through the darkness, a cage that extended for as far as he could see. He can feel his heartbeat start to quicken. This was too much. This was preposterous. There was no way this was real, this had to be magic. A trick, a cruel magic trick, so drive Junmyeon into a corner. To seal him away into madness forever. “Where are we?” He doesn’t want to hear the answer. 

“You really don’t know?” 

“Enough riddles,” Junmyeon chokes out, he’s finding it difficult to breathe. The Moon God sighs, his robes shimmering like the deepest parts of the ocean. 

“Your dreams.” 

“That’s… that’s not possible.” Junmyeon senses it’s not the full truth. 

He says nothing, and Junmyeon knows that he’s trying to assess him. See how fragile the human was, see what it would take to break him. “Wake me up,” Junmyeon says suddenly, frantically. He needed to get out of here, he can’t bear to hear the answer. “Wake me up!” 

“Is that what you want?” 

“It’s what I’m asking,” Junmyeon replies with no hesitation, just the fear that’s chipping away at his head and the anxiety pounding through his heart. 

“If you wish,” the God murmurs, “But you’ll be back here in due time.” It’s not a threat, nor a promise. He says it like it’s inevitable, and Junmyeon doesn’t want to believe it is. He’ll stay up if he has too. He can force himself to stay awake for hours and hours and hours, driven by fear. It’s enough to fuel him, he never wants to be here again. In the clutches of a God. Or have a God in his clutches. He covers Junmyeon’s eyes, and now Junmyeon is met with true darkness.

☾

_He spies him in the first meeting itself. From all over the universe, planet representatives come to gather, work together, in a rare display of what could be a ground-breaking record for peace. He’s at the center of every meeting, speaking wise, calm words that sounds nice. It makes sense that the Prince leads most gatherings, they’re held at his home planet after all. He could listen forever to that voice, the voice of the Prince._

_It’s his golden eyes that catch his attention at first. So different to his own silver. They change, they morph into pretty yellows and deeper oranges. Shift into mellow oranges to dark, brooding reds. It’s fascinating, enchanting, really. He’s not supposed to look for so long, but he can’t help it. Something about him whispers power, authority, and most of all: obedience. Not that he would comply, not at first anyways._

_He doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like how it draws him in, distracting and attention-grabbing. So for the most part, he avoids the heated gaze. He wants nothing to do with it, initially. It’s easy to avoid the Prince, he evades encounters with ease, doesn’t spend more time than necessary at the meetings. He spends his time in the multiple libraries— why there are so many, he doesn’t know— poring over book after book, legend after legend, with every flip of a page, time flows easier. After the libraries he visits the gardens, counting every glowing flower. Gold, silver, silver, gold. He sorts them by colour, type, growth. It’s an easy way to spend his time._

_Wasting time is easy, spending it wisely is not._

_He feels the eyes on him later, during a banquet. He’s got a drink in his hand, and he feels the back of his neck burning— an unwanted gaze burning him heavily. He turns around, and it’s that moment where the silver meets gold. And it takes his breath away. He’s unable to look away now, can’t be bothered to try and redirect his focus. He is caught in what feels like a trap. No a few seconds of long, drawn out eye contact. Enough is enough, he decides quickly, rashly. He has a decision to make in the split second their eye contact holds. He can engage, or run._

_He runs._

_Not quite a run, but he sets his drink back down and exits the room as orderly as he can manage. For some reason his heart is pounding, as if he’s been caught with a secret, or his deepest shame has been revealed. He rushes to get out of there, the fellow people’s face melding together along with their polite greetings. He does his best to greet them back, but with every step he can feel a fire trailing after him. Smoke curling from his feet, or the gaze that follows it._

_He finds little relief in the empty palace hallways, stumbling his way out onto a balcony. The view is breathtaking. Trees and sand dooms, and the moon. Shining brightly above him. She twinkles, and he can see the ghost of a smile on her pretty, blank face. He stares at it a little longer, feelings his heart calm down with every passing second. He did draw power from her, after all._

_When he turns around, he’s once again met with golden eyes that burn into his. The gasp that comes out isn’t enough to relay his shock, or the way he feels strangely frozen to his spot by the burning eyes. “Your— your majesty,” he stammers out, as if he has a secret to hide. And he supposes he does. He dips into a bow, quick and rushed, apologies hanging from his lips. “Blessings and glory upon the holy empire,”_

_“Blessings and glory onto you,” He pauses and there’s a hint of amusement in his voice, in those charming eyes. His stupidly handsome face. There’s a smile on his face too, one that he can only interpret as something akin to_ hunger. _Maybe the problem wasn’t how distracting the Prince was, but how taken he is with the prince. An absurd amount considering how little they’ve interacted for. “You don’t have to be afraid,”_

 _There’s a silent message that lies here. ‘You don’t have to be afraid, I haven’t done anything to you,_ yet.’ __

_“I am, most certainly not afraid.” He chuckles, but it comes out dry, and awkward. “My apologies, you just took me by surprise, my Lord.”_

_The Prince raises an eyebrow, but thankfully he doesn’t comment. There’s this undeniable feeling that he knows. Knows about the gardens, about the avoiding. The sneaking around, the books after book and the legends after legends being inhaled one by one because he didn’t want to interact unnecessarily._

_“What’s your name?”_

_“Me?” He asks stupidly. Who else would he ask? There was no one else on the balcony except them. “Ah, yes, of course me.” He can’t help the blush that spreads, can feel the heat of his cheeks, accentuated by the chill of the night._

_“Yes, you.” And now the amusement dips into something else, curiosity, he can only presume. The Prince’s face was hard to read, his expression trained to forever be impassive. He wonders if one day he’ll be able to read it._

_“Suho,” he answers, and it rings between them softly. Suho, the name gifted by his Mother. The special meaning it held, as common as it was._

_“Guardian?” The Prince replies, blinking in… shock? He tries to guess. “Of what?”_

_“Her,” He turns, gesturing to the moon. She twinkles back, happily. There’s a flash of recognition that passes over his handsome face. “And you?”_

_“I’m not a guardian,”_

_“Your name,” Now he’s the one amused._

_“Ah, of course.” He smiles, and now it seems sheepish, not hungry. “The Sun prince,” That’s common knowledge. “My name, which you can address me as, is Lay.”_

_That however, isn't._

☾

At this point, Junmyeon is tired of the constant cycle of waking up in fear. His dreams drown him in it, so much so that he can’t even escape it when he wakes up to reality. He expects Yixing to be there, waiting beside him, but he’s met with silence. And the emptiness that comes with it. He wakes up back in his room, the thick blanket weighing down his legs. He hates how it feels, heavy and burdening.

He gets up slowly, takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders to relieve them of their stress. He tries not to think about the darkness, and the deity that was within it. Tries not to think of the silver eyes, and the pale skin, and the weird markings. Tries especially hard to not dwell on the face that looked exactly like his, and fails. 

He gets up slowly, his legs stiff and aching. He nearly falls when his feet first touch the ground, his legs are shaking badly again. He manages to walk slowly, hands gripping whatever they can reach for support. He makes his way towards the mirror on the wall. 

His reflection seems normal, tired but normal. His face is pale, and the shadows under his eyes emphasize a bone deep tiredness that settles all around him. But his eyes, his eyes aren’t normal. They flash silver and reflective in the mirror. So suddenly it takes his breath away, leaves his tongue dry, and his mind filled with terrifying thoughts about the moon and the sun and the Gods. 

He blinks, and his eyes are back to their normal brown. He doesn’t want to blink, keeps his eyes open for as long as he can, letting the tears gather up in them. When he does blink, it’s as quick as the flutter of a bird’s wing, as if he’ll miss something in the few, brief moments of darkness. 

His eyes stay brown. 

It’s not enough to calm him. Not nearly enough to help him settle his nerves, but enough for him to let out a sigh of relief, and sink to the floor. When he looks back up at the mirror, his reflection is standing. Looking down at him with stern, serious eyes. 

Junmyeon feels a wave of dizziness pass over him. His hands curl against the floor, and he scoots away from the mirror. The reflection stays standing, but doesn’t move. There’s no wave of it’s hand, no shuffling feet. Just a straight back, and eyes that eerily glow silver. 

“Suho?” Junmyeon whispers, in shock, and defeat. He had hoped he was imagining, hallucinating whatever just happened.

The reflection perks up, and with every sudden blink life blooms back into its eyes. When it looks down, the seriousness is gone. Replaced with a mellow, gentle aura. The reflection taps it’s lips, and Junmyeon wants to curl into a ball, and never wake up. 

Instead, he stands back up. Coming in close to the mirror, eye to eye with the God that’s in his head, was in his eyes, and is now his mirror. “Is this where you’re trapped?” He mumbles, confused. 

The God shakes his head side to side. ‘No.’ Junmyeon hears, but it’s not from the mirror, from inside his head. He grips the folds of his clothes tighter. “Can you hear me?” It’s a silly question, but the God doesn’t seem to think so. 

_‘Yes.’_

“And I can hear you,” Junmyeon says, and his words are barely audible. 

A nod from the reflection. 

“How?” 

He just taps his own forehead, and somehow that’s enough for Junmyeon to get the message. 

_‘In here.’_ Is the short answer. His mind. There’s a God in his mind. “Is that,” Junmyeon swallows, nervous. “Is that where you’re trapped?” 

_‘Good job,’_ His voice is so sweet, compared to how Junmyeon normally talks to himself. It’s unlike his voice, and like it at the same time. It’s so confusing it’s a wonder he doesn’t get a headache. 

You’re remembering. Junmyeon thinks about the musings from his dreams. Waking up. 

_‘Precisely,’_ Junmyeon shudders. That wasn’t meant for Suho to hear, but he supposes with him dwelling in the same place his thoughts were born, it’s inevitable. 

“But how are you here?” he gestures at the mirror. “And not, here…?” He taps his own forehead. 

_‘I can express myself in many ways,’_

“And this is one?” 

The reflection nods. He should stop calling it a reflection, but the name sticks. 

_‘Mirrors are like...portals.’_ The thought doesn’t sit well with Junmyeon, and he immediately wants it removed. Smashed and shattered into sharp bits. _‘You can reach out and… project yourself. It’s strenuous, but it works.’_

Strenuous? For a God? Junmyeon wants to say. “I have no desire to project myself,”

_‘There’s no need for you to. You have a fully functioning body.’_

A fully functioning body. How many fully functioning bodies did the God go through? Did he burn through them quickly? Did he live as satisfying of a life as he could in each and every one?

“...Right.” Junmyeon swallows, and their interaction hangs in the air. Foreign and strange. “I’m going to leave,” He announces, and it seems like a stupid thing to announce. Silly. Childish. This situation was anything but, and he can’t wrap his head around it. A God. Who looked like him. In his mind. In his mirror. 

_‘It’s not like I won’t follow,’_

“Right,” Junmyeon mumbles, exhaling slowly. “Of course. 

A God. Who looked like him. In his mind, in his mirror, following behind.

☾

_The days pass slowly now, and he wonders when he’ll see the Prince, Lay, again. Or moreso, when they’ll talk again. There’s a curiosity that burns in the back of his mind, insatiable and hungry. He wants to know more, about this planet, it’s people, and the Prince who is to rule them. Strangely enough, or luckily enough, the Prince seems just as interested, if not more._

__

__

__

It’s strange, like he’s being drawn to an irresistible flame. There’s something about their encounter that leaves him a little breathless, and craving more. His thoughts are filled with golden sunny eyes and the little smirk that accompanied them. Is enamoured? Hardly. Obsessed? No, never. Curious? Yes. Burning to the brim with it. He spends his time in the libraries still, but now the time is spent on research. Hours and hours of poring through the history books that describe this planet. 

A holy, ethereal planet. With thriving life forces and the strongest of people. The strongest of all was the Prince, who had been gifted with the strength of the sun. Fiery and blazing, Handsome, beautiful even, powerful enough to annihilate nations with the snap of a finger. Powerful enough to burn everything straight into the ground. Holding the real power of the kingdom, no he was the power of the kingdom, the secret weapon? No. There was nothing secret about the way he tore up people on the battlefield without even blinking.

Something unpredictable, wise and judging. A weapon smart enough to decide who deserved to live and who deserved to die in seconds.

It scares him a little, he thinks about that line the most when he’s face to face with the Prince, describing his day. The Prince didn’t talk much, but when he did his voice would be filled with warmth, and light, and all things nice. Maybe he is a little enamoured after all. And it’s then that he tries to ground himself, it’s then that he takes a deep breath and thinks about how dangerous Lay really is. Scary. Powerful enough to destroy planets with the slightest touch. 

“What’s troubling you?” The voice, the Prince’s voice, interrupts his thoughts. Not prodding, just gentle. Curious. He’s curious too. 

He turns to look at him, and now he can’t tear his eyes away. 

“May I be honest?” The Prince asks, and he halts to a stop. Turns his body to face him fully. 

“Always,” he replies, a little bit shocked, a little bit scared. Of course he could be honest, with him. Always. Anytime. Any day. 

“Often when we talk,” he pauses, gathering his thoughts. “I find that you’re not quite here.” 

The words confuse him, but he nods slowly in reply. 

“You go somewhere else,” he smiles wryly. “I can see it in the faraway look in your eyes, you wander. Or well, your mind does.” 

He had the tendency to do that, finds it easy to get lost in his thoughts. It’s easy to take cover in the darkness in mind provides. 

“May I make a request?” His eyes are burning golden into Suho. 

“Of course,” and now he’s confused. He’s the Prince. The leader. He didn’t need to ask for permission to request something, anything. He could just say it, make it an order and it would be done. His word was law. He glances down at his hands, staring at the bandages that covered his palms. He mentally welcomes the Prince, despite being uncomfortable. 

“From now on when we talk, try not to get lost,” His smile is like the slow burning of lava, molten and hot. “Keep your attention on me, alright?” 

A nod is all he can manage to do, trying not to think about those intense eyes, and the request that’s been given. “I’ll try,” 

“Good,” The Prince smiles again, and this time there’s no dark undertone. Just pure, innocence.

☾

Junmyeon makes it approximately three steps into the hallway when a servant notices him. He’s met with cries of “Master Junmyeon’s!’ and ‘Lord Junmyeon’s!’ and it’s enough to send him whirling around and hurrying down the other direction. He’s a master at evading, skilled in the self-taught art of hiding from palace servants. He makes quick work of finding himself in the corner where he normally hides, hidden safely but a thick red curtain that blocks his body from view as the servants scurry by. The only thing was he could only tell when they were passing based on the shadows of his feet.

“Junmyeon?” 

There’s a touch on his elbow, gently and light and Junmyeon nearly jumps out of his skin. He whirls around and is met Yixing, gold eyes blinking in confusion. Something inside Junmyeon twangs, a feeling of longing, and love. 

_‘He looks like—’_

“Shut up,” Junmyeon hisses to the God, but it’s out loud and seems directed to Yixing. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Yixing begins to protest, and Junmyeon presses a hand against Yixing’s mouth, face burning with embarrassment as he silently shushes him. 

_‘Absolutely not,_ is what Junmyeon gets in response, and he doesn’t know how he’s hearing amusement in the God’s voice but he is. If it were up to Junmyeon he wouldn’t even be talking to the God, zero interaction. Instead he gets stuck with menial commentary and what he can only hope is playful banter, and not arguing. 

They stay like that, Junmyeon’s hand on his mouth, Yixing’s hands gripping his elbows, until all the servants have gone. Junmyeon removes his hand, “What are you doing behind here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” the grip on his elbows tighten, and Yixing’s eyebrows scrunch. “I wasn’t told you were awake, I _specifically_ told the service to ensure that I knew,” Junmyeon can hear the underlying anger bubbling in Yixing’s words, and he can imagine how badly the servants will get scolded. “How long have you been awake?” 

“A long time,” Junmyeon answers untruthfully. 

_‘Lying to your lover?’_

Junmyeon winces. 

“Why do you even attempt lying?” Yixing scoffs, and he’s fussing with Junmyeon. His hands straightening his clothes, trying to make his hair neater, it’s strangely caring. Not that Yixing wasn’t caring, but given their fight before Junmyeon woke up he can’t help but feel mistrustful. “You underestimate how well I know you.” Yixing frowns, and his eyes are a darker gold now, more troubled. “And I would have been informed the _moment_ you woke up if it happened at any other time.” 

“A few minutes ago,” Junmyeon admits, leaning against the wall. He probably over exerted himself, given how out of breath he is from a little running. Yixing’s hands are on him immediately, supporting him. 

“You need to be resting,” 

“I don’t need rest,” Junmyeon retorts, feeling a little angry. 

_‘Yes you do.’_ Junmyeon resists the urge to say shut up again. He shouldn’t be trying to shut up a God but he’s bordering on being livid so he gives himself a pardon.

“You can’t stand right now, can you.” 

Junmyeon refuses to admit it, and he swears he can hear a dark chuckle from the depths of his mind. “I can stand just fine,” 

_‘No you can’t,’_

Junmyeon grits his teeth. Suho is surprisingly chatty. Annoyingly so, Junmyeon wonders if this is what the rest of his life will be like. Commentary from another being the whole time.

“Junmyeon,” Yixing looks at him sternly. “Don’t push me. I’m taking you to your room.” 

No. Junmyeon’s eyes widen. He thinks of his mirror, the God’s reflection. He can’t show that to Yixing, Not now. Depending on if Suho would choose to show himself or not. He needed to explain it first, or try to. They need to talk about Minseok, about whatever delusions Junmyeon’s mind is trying to convince him is real. He can’t afford for Yixing to just drop him off in his room, and leave him to brood in the silence alone. 

“No,” Junmyeon says firmly, “Take me to yours.” 

If the request takes Yixing by surprise, he doesn’t show it. Instead he supports Junmyeon with a hand on his waist, and pushes the curtain aside with his other hand. “If you insist,” 

“Make no mistake, I _am_ insisting.” 

There’s a smile on Yixing’s face and although Junmyeon can’t guess why, he lets himself revel in their little bubble of care and playfulness. It’s bound to break the moment Junmyeon opens his mouth to start a serious discussion, so he lets himself enjoy the feelings he used to feel before all… _this._

☾

_It’s a cruel twist of fate, their wedding announcement. One that he’s not prepared for, one that knocks him off his feets and twists his heart painfully. Married. To her. He wants to see Lay, wants to scream, yell, cry. Most likely cry. He feels like crying now, has never felt this crushed. Has never felt his heart feel so crushed, so betrayed. He should pass it off as dramatics, but he can’t. Because it’s the announcement of their union that forces him to come to terms with his feelings._

_The pounding of his heart, the butterflies in his stomach, the dizziness in his head. Love. He was supposedly, in love. How cruel. How terribly cruel._

_He falls back into his old routine easily. Back to libraries, poring over book after book, legend after legend. It’s harder to evade him somehow. He seeks him out, tries to catch him in the library, tries to arrange a meeting in the gardens. It’s hard, but it has to be done._

_He can’t be in love with a man to be married, nonetheless the man who was to take their respective kingdoms into an era of peace and prosperity. One who had been conditioned to think of his kingdom first. It scares him, the realization that he holds this much power of the Prince. What scares him more, is whether or not he’ll be able to turn down the opportunity to use that power for himself._

_It’s easier when he thinks of it as a universal problem, and not a personal one. He claims to be ill at the next banquets, but he can only evade him for so long. His excuse leads the Prince to the perfect opportunity to visit him, frustrations veiled by concern. His desire to talk guise under diplomatic friendship._

_“You’ve been avoiding me,” his voice is soft, hurtfully so._

_“Yes, I have.” He hopes the words will hurt. Hurt enough to send him away, and not make this anymore painful then it already is._

_“I didn’t… I didn’t know it would be announced.”_

_“So you knew of it?” His voice is bitter, and he hates it._

_“No,” Soft, a resignation. It’s rare that the Prince doesn’t know about something. He was supposed to have eyes and ears everywhere, a spy located at every inch of the castle for his sake and his sake alone. “If I did I would have told you,”_

_“And then what?” Now he sounds hollow. “You would have told me and I would just have to stitch how I feel closed?” He can’t take the words back, they linger in the air. How he feels. How does he feel about the Prince? Who so easily charmed him. He feels enamoured, and in love. Strangely._

_“I would never ask you to do that,” The Prince bites back, “And I would rather die if I were to do the same.” he pauses, looks him right in the eye. “She’s not the one I can imagine spending my life with.”_

☾

“I need to talk to you,” Junmyeon says straight-forwardly. He wants to get this over with.

Yixing raises an eyebrow at Junmyeon gesturing to him to sit. “Funny, because I need to talk to you.” 

“Not funny,” Junmyeon retaliates. “Because you’re already not taking me seriously.” 

_‘Are you going to tell him? About me?’_ Junmyeon ignores the words in favour of sitting down where Yixing told him to. 

“Of course I am,” Yixing replies lightly, and he sits beside Junmyeon. “I’m just worried. I’m allowed to be worried. You… a lot happened.” 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Junmyeon says, a little sarcastic, and all too nervous. 

“You’re mad at me,” and it’s like they're playing a game. A game to see who will crack first and say what they want to say. Junmyeon wants to refuse to play, but instead he silently refuses to lose. 

“Maybe,” 

“Junmyeon,” Yixing smiles, and it’s kind, and patient, except for the fact that it’s not. It’s more impatient, cutting through Junmyeon’s excuses. Junmyeon is already losing. “What’d I say about lying?” 

He’s right. Infuriatingly right. He does know so much about Junmyeon, and is annoyingly accurate in his interpretations of Junmyeon’s feelings. There’s no escaping the truth. 

“Ok fine, I am mad.” 

“Why?” 

“Why?” Junmyeon’s taking aback. “You _know why._ You didn’t believe me. What I said.” 

_‘Why didn’t he believe you?’_ The God sounds shocked, _‘You’re his other half?’_

 _That doesn’t mean he will._ Junmyeon stews silently. He wants to add a little _‘not everyone loves each other to the point of handing over a doomed fate to several people, including me’_ but he doesn’t. 

Yixing pauses, looks at Junmyeon very carefully. His eyes glow gold. “I still don’t, if I’m being honest.” 

“Well then let’s start with that,” Junmyeon frowns deeply. “You _should_. I showed you the evidence.” 

“You do know what I’d be giving up if I follow up on this right?” And now Yixing starts to sound angry. “No offense Junmyeon but I think you have bigger things to worry about then letters filled with harmless feelings.” 

_‘He’s being rather annoying,’_

“This could jeopardize the kingdom!” Junmyeon exclaims, and he doesn’t want to sit beside Yixing anymore. Wants Yixing to sit far, far away from him. “Of _course_ that’s what I’m going to worry about—” 

“And what about your health, hm?” Yixing’s eyebrows are furrowed. “The constant fainting? The headaches and the pains?” 

“How did you—” 

“I’m your _soulmate_ Junmyeon, I feel what you feel—” 

“Ridiculous,” Junmyeon snaps, and Yixing’s eyes darken to orange. 

“Ridiculous? _Ridiculous?”_ He questions, “You know what _is_ ridiculous?

_‘Would you like me to help?’_

“No,” Junmyeon answers, and it’s meant for Suho, but it’s directed to Yixing. Yixing’s face smooths over, a stony blank expression covers his face. 

“You’re blatant ignorance towards yourself Junmyeon!” Yixing yells, and now he’s standing up, and his eyes are flickering red, and he’s _mad._ “You don’t even care—” 

“I told you why I feel like that!” Junmyeon bites out, and he’s squeezing his hands so tightly they hurt. “I _told you_ and you didn’t believe me, and then—” 

“The floor split,” Yixing finishes, jaw clenched. “When are we going to talk about that, hm? How’d you manage to do that?” and suddenly Minseok is the last thing this conversation was about. 

_‘Oh,’_ He sounds amused. ‘He knows,’

 _What do you mean he knows,_ Junmyeon squeezes his eyes shut. There’s a headache building up, an anger that is starting to simmer in him. The strange thing is, it’s not even his anger. He can tell, and it’s more terrifying when he thinks about how it’s a God’s wrath that’s burning up inside him. 

“I don’t— I don’t know,” Junmyeon lies, and it’s futile. One look at Yixing’s is enough for Junmyeon to know he knows it’s a lie. 

“Tell me did it happen by a _feeling?”_ Yixing is twisting Junmyeon’s words from their fight earlier and it takes all of Junmyeon’s willpower to not yell at him to shut up. “So his interaction didn’t sit well with you. Ok What now?” 

_‘This is your lover? Pathetic.’_

_“Enough,”_ Junmyeon seethes and it’s directed to both of them.

“You didn’t like the present he offered? Is that what this is all about? Some petty feelings—” 

_“Petty?”_ The words come from Junmyeon’s mouth but it’s not him. It’s not his voice, this voice is pretty but not sweet, it’s calm with anger, makes Junmyeon freeze even though technically it’s him. _“You dare to talk to me like that?”_

“Your eyes,” Yixing whispers. 

And by the _sun,_ it’s not Junmyeon talking, it’s _Suho._ Yixing doesn’t seem shocked, but he is taken aback. His eyes are wide and unbelieving but he’s not _questioning_ and Junmyeon wants to demand answers. Question his existence. 

“By the moon get back,” he blurts out, and now it is his voice. Yixing is staring at him like he’s grown two heads, and Junmyeon can see the way the cogs in his brain are turning, whirring and trying to figure Junmyeon out. 

“Are you…” Yixing pauses, and Junmyeon, no, _Suho_ takes it as an opportunity to speak up. 

_“Take my word for it,”_ The God continues to speak, and it’s like Junmyeon is in the backseat of his own body. He doesn’t mean Junmyeon’s word, he means his. That means Suho is right, Yixing does know about Junmyeon. He does know which means— _“He’s not to be trusted.”_ And there goes Junmyeon’s whole plan, the reason why he didn’t go to his own room in the first place. 

Junmyeon’s legs waver, and he almost collapses. Yixing is there to catch him, steadying him in seconds. 

He’s staring at Junmyeon, biting his lip concerned. “Are you not in control?” 

“Control of _what?”_ Junmyeon exclaims, and now it’s less of a game, and more figuring out what exactly Yixing knows. Because he knew more than he was letting on. He doesn’t mean control of his _emotions,_ “You _know,”_ Junmyeon accuses eyes wide. 

There’s this look in Yixing’s eyes, and he’s clearly battling with what to say. “Junmyeon—” 

“You _knew?”_ He questions, and this time it’s fully him. “You knew it was— you knew what was inside me?” 

“Junmyeon—” he tries again, more frustration in his voice. 

“Why didn’t you _say_ anything?” He demands. 

“Well I wasn’t sure—” 

“You weren’t _sure?”_ It’s surreal that Yixing would even have a clue. “How would you even— the idea itself is absurd. You know what, _you’re_ absurd. Is this a joke to you?” 

“No no it’s not—” 

“Right.” Junmyeon cuts in again. “Unbelievable,” and then, “By the moon how do you know?” 

“Well—” 

“Nevermind, I don’t want to know. It’s probably none of my business. It’s probably better for the precious kingdom if I just keep my mouth shut, and my head down, and deal with the blazing _God_ that’s inside me, as if the notion of that isn’t crazy—” 

“Will you _let me speak!”_

“No!” Junmyeon yells and now he’s the one standing, wishing he had something to throw. Something heavy enough to hurt someone. Preferably Yixing. “You knew and you didn’t say a _word_ you let me believe I was crazy! You— how do you _even know?”_

“Lay told me,” Yixing says, his face is calm but his voice betrays him. Wavering in fury. 

Now _that_ sentence makes Junmyeon’s blood run cold. It’s like it cements the idea that his fate is decided already, in the hands of the universe who keeps him living a loop of cruelty.

“Don’t you lie to me,” Junmyeon says without thinking, he doesn’t even want to think about it. Doesn’t want to think about how Yixing just confirmed what he always already knew, doesn’t want to think about what that entails for him. What that means for _them._ “That’s crazy.”

“Is it?” Yixing asks quietly, and Junmyeon just wants to _die._

 _“Yes,_ yes it is,” 

“How?” Yixing’s the one asking him the questions now. “You hear Suho’s voice in your head as if it’s your own, I just— I just _saw_ him Junmyeon. It’s not crazy, if anything you should know that—” 

“When you said I’m not in control, what did you mean?” 

Silence is his answer. 

“Answer the question, Yixing.” 

“You told him to go back. Like he just, took over your body.” 

“He _did,”_

More silence. 

“What, you don’t believe that too?” 

_“God_ Junmyeon! Give me a minute to breathe will you?” 

“Sorry,” Junmyeon says, completely unapologetic. “I’m just having a difficult time grasping this situation.” This situation. A God, in his mind. And now apparently, a God in Yixing’s mind. One who is ‘under control’ and ‘manageable’ and doesn’t just blurt out words from his mouth like it’s his body. 

“Is it always like that? Does he always just… take control of you?” 

“No. No it hasn’t always been like that, it’s only been like that since my birthday, and this is still the only time he’s ever taken control—” 

“You’re _birthday?”_ Yixing demands, confusion written all over his face.

“I can’t have this conversation,” Junmyeon says suddenly, tired of going in circles. 

“Well you’re going to have to.” he continues on, “So you don’t actually...coincide with him?” 

Junmyeon stares at him, in either disgust or disbelief. He can’t decide, and he doesn’t want to even look at Yixing right now. “As in what, are we the _same person?”_

Yixing inhales deeply. “With Lay, I’m always in control.” 

“Must be nice.” Junmyeon replies flatly. In his mind, the words echo. With Lay. He said it so calmly. _‘Yeah Junmyeon, there’s a Sun God in me. No big deal. I’m his reincarnation. You’re soulmate. Once again, no big deal.’_

Yixing gives him a look. “He never has, and never _will_ take over my body. Do we talk? Yes, but not like that.So why is it different with you?” 

_Does he show up in mirrors too_ Junmyeon wants to ask. _Or is that something reserved for Suho only because apparently he doesn’t follow the typical guidelines reincarnated Gods do._

“I wish I knew,” Junmyeon answers, “I wish you told me.” 

“How do you think you would’ve reacted to that?” Yixing snorts, his eyes flashing red. “Did you expect me to casually come up to you and tell you? Oh yeah Junmyeon, by the way, I think you have a God inside you. No big deal—” 

“By the Sun, just shut up.” 

“Shut up?” Yixing quirks his eyebrow, “That God in you is waking up Junmyeon, and if you’re not in control…” 

“If I’m not in control…?” 

“There’s no saying what will happen with a God on the loose.” 

“He’s not ‘on the loose’ he’s stuck inside me like I’m an empty container,” the words come out harshly, and Junmyeon resists the urge to wince.

“That’s an awful comparison,” He’s frowning now. “I wonder why…”

“Whatever,” Junmyeon’s eyes burn. 

“No it’s not whatever,” Yixing reaches out to hold his hands, Junmyeon pulls them away. “This is serious.” 

“And everything I’ve been saying up until this point hasn’t been?” 

“That’s not what—” 

“If we’re _lucky_ , I won’t end up dead, Yixing.”

“What are you saying?” Yixing demands harshly, walking over to the curtains and pulling them shut. The room instantly goes darker and Yixing’s eyes glow much clearer now. 

“You’ve never heard the tale? The tale of the _tragic_ love of the Gods, and the curse placed on them, us, the curse that will make sure I die a horrible death, separated from you?” 

“Speak _clearly_ Junmyeon. You’re not going to die.” 

“Suho and Lay!” Junmyeon hisses, “The _spirits inside us_ , they were cursed to never be reunited. And now here we are—” 

“We aren’t them—” 

“Do you not coincide with him?” Junmyeon snaps, chest heaving. “The curser in that story, which apparently isn’t a story, is out there Yixing.” Junmyeon lowers his voice, his eyes flashing heavily. “They want to kill _Suho_ , so they want to kill _me_ ,” His words hang heavily in the air as Yixing watches Junmyeon with narrowed eyes. 

“Elaborate.” he orders. 

Junmyeon groans, running a hand through his hair. “She loved the Sun God first, and then,” Junmyeon gestures roughly at himself. “Came along and interfered? Unplanned, and unintentional, but still true. They wouldn’t want to kill Lay, they love him too much to do that. So they go for the next best thing, the one thing that _tore the relationship apart.”_ Junmyeon pauses, looking Yixing in the eye. “Which is Suho, who is actually _me._ Therefore the chances of them wanting me dead are very, very high Yixing.” 

“So we find the curser,” 

“Right,” Junmyeon snorts, and it’s then he notices that the God is eerily silent. “Because that’s going to be easy when there are so many people—” Junmyeon stops, blinking. He could… he could already think of one person it could be. One person with flashing eyes, and traitorous lies. One person who already had Yixing convinced. “I’m willing to bet that that person is Minseok.” 

“You’re… there’s no way.” 

“When are you going to stop being so blind to what’s right in front of you Yixing? _Wake up,_ the answer is right in front of you.” 

“You need to rest.” Is what Yixing says, firmly. “You’re tired, and you’re not thinking straight. Now. I’ll drag you to your room if I have to.” 

“I can see myself out,” Junmyeon retorts, “But this isn’t the end of this conversation.” 

“No, I don’t believe it is,” Yixing says, and he sounds a bit older. Wiser, and when Junmyeon looks at him, his eyes are back to gold. 

__

☾

_He’s sitting down, when there’s a knock on the door. Three consecutive knocks, he knows that cue. He gets up to answer the door, blue robes trailing behind him. Before he even has time to open the doors they fling open, and he’s met with the sight of orange eyes, burning away. The thud of the doors shutting echoes within the walls of the big room._

_“Blessings and glory be upon the holy empire, My Lord,”He starts to bow down by instinct, but is stopped._

_“Enough of that, you never have to bow to me,”_

_“It’s only out of respect.”_

_“Respect,” He scoffs, eyes flashing red. He can’t help but wonder why he’s in such a bad mood. He has an inkling of an idea, but he’s in no position to question. “Isn’t that why anyone does anything, when it comes to me?”_

_“What’s troubling you so much? I can feel your unrest.” He questions, and there’s a hint of confusion in his voice. “You can’t afford to be seen here.”_

_“I don’t care!” He hisses, “It’s driving me insane. This marriage, her.”_

_“She seems fine,”_

_“Fine? She seems fine? You have no idea. Take one good look at her eyes, and tell me if she still seems fine. Estranged. She’s estranged. ”_

_“I thought you two were friends,” he tries to convince him. Has been trying to convince the Prince about this marriage for days now. It hurts him, his heart feels betrayed, but it’s the least he can do. He owes the people. He owes the kingdom, and he’s trying to repay it through the Prince. “I thought you could be at peace with her.”_

_“That was before I met you.”_

_A sharp intake of breath. “Enough.”_

_“Enough?” Now his eyes are flashing scarlet. “You_ know, _why I can’t marry her.”_

_“Why? What makes you say that?” He cries out, exasperated._

_“You know what. You know why.” They lock eyes, and instead of anger he sees anguish. “The marks, you covered them up.” The words are random and spoken quietly, but the weight they hold is heavy. He glances down at his bandaged hands, and then at the Prince’s own engraved ones._

_“I had to,” even though he’s the one saying it, the words pierce his own heart. It’s hurt to say it, to confirm what the Prince doesn’t want to hear._

_“Why?”_

_“For your kingdom,” He stresses, the answer is so simple. Why does he need to do anything? For the sake of the Kingdom. “For your people. This is the only way. She’s the right choice, you know she is. She can help lead your people.”_

_“I owe them nothing. Nothing.” He mumbles, “I owe her nothing. Have they done anything for me? Other than inflict pressure and pain?”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous,” he whispers, trying to hold back his tears. He refuses to let them fall. “It’s your duty.”_

_“I hate it. I hate my duty.”_

_“You don’t mean that—”_

_“Yes I do!” He snaps, “I meant it when I said I can’t marry her. I meant it when I said I don’t owe the kingdom anything.” He inhales deeply, taking a few steps closer. They’re so close he can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, so close the Prince can see his own eyes reflected in the silver. “I meant it when I told you I love you.”_

_Those words are what breaks his weak facade, he can’t help it. He grabs the Prince in by the collar of his heavy red robes, pressing his lips against his incessantly. The words ring between the two of them. He loves him. They love each other._

_But they shouldn’t._

_“I know,” he mumbles against his lips. And it’s not the response he wants to hear. “I know you do, but you shouldn’t.”_

☾

It’s in his constant wave of anger that he meets Minseok. Much to his relief, Minseok seems unaware of their constant fighting. Just goes about playing fake nice with Junmyeon, and genuinely nice with Yixing, and it _grates_ Junmyeon’s nerves.

He stays out of Minseok’s way, gathers his evidence slowly and documents everything in a book which he carries with him everywhere. He’s not risking it. But when Minseok approaches him there isn’t much he can do. 

“Blessings and glory be upon the empire,” Minseok bows, and Junmyeon bows back. “I’m pleased to see you made a quick recovery.” 

“I too am pleased I did,” Junmyeon says, feeling his skin itch. 

_‘It’s,’_ The God pauses, and Junmyeon realizes that this is the first time he’s seeing Minseok. _‘Keep talking to him,’_

_What._

_‘Just do it,’_

“Uh, how have you been?” Junmyeon asks suddenly, and he wants nothing more than to get out of there. Minseok’s eyes flash curiously, a light purple. Purple. Purple eyes. The purple magic used to try and kill him. 

“Well enough.” A simple answer. Junmyeon needs to stall. 

“Are you finding everything alright here?” 

“Quite,” Minseok smiles, “I’m probably enjoying it more than you.” he jokes, but it falls flat. 

“I doubt it,” Junmyeon laughs, but it’s fake. “This _is_ my home after all. Where I belong.” _Mine._ Junmyeon thinks. _Just like Yixing you conniving little—_

_‘Easy there Junmyeon.’_

Junmyeon wants to scream. It’s Suho’s fault he’s stuck here in the first place. Just what was he _doing?_

“Right,” Minseok’s eyes narrow, “Of course it is.” 

_‘It’s her. I’m sure of it.’_

Her. As in—

_‘The one who cursed me.’_

“Right,” Junmyeon swallows nervously, and it’s meant for Suho, not Minseok. He was right, and he hated that he was. He had said that to Yixing out of spite, rather than a realistic accusation. Now how will he explain this?

“And beside him, is that where you belong as well?” No it _is_ more like her than Minseok who says that, a touch cold, too calculating to sit well with Junmyeon. 

‘Don’t—’

“Yes,” Junmyeon says slowly. “Yes it is.” 

Something flashes in Minseok’s eyes, dark and mysterious. 

“And if he doesn’t think that?”

“Yixing’s not stupid,” Junmyeon snaps, even though Yixing didn’t believe his words in the first place. 

Minseok, for whatever reason, reaches out and touches Junmyeon’s hand. Junmyeon recoils, hand curling away from Minseok as if his hand was cold to touch. Minseok says nothing, his eyes flashing quickly. “Just what did you tell him?” He asks plainly, staring as if Junmyeon is going to start transforming into a hideous creature. The niceties are gone now. Junmyeon feels the darkness edging into his mind, invading his personal space. His hand automatically presses itself to his mouth, clamping his lips down firmly so he wouldn’t have to respond. _Suho._ He couldn’t speak, he could barely breathe. His vision was already starting to go blurry. 

Minseok raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk gracing his lips. “You tried to tell him about me?” He purrs, eyes gleaming a darker shade of purple. “So why hasn’t he kicked me out of his precious kingdom yet?” 

Junmyeon glares at him viciously. 

“Unless...surely your soulmate believed you, wouldn’t he?” He questions maliciously. Junmyeon clenches his jaw, eyes turning hard in an instant. Minseok bites his lip, holding back an impish grin. “Unless of course... he doesn’t trust you.” 

Junmyeon wants to scream, he wants to shout and deny the poisonous words slipping idly out of Minseok’s lips, the words that dripped devishily from his mouth, but he can’t. Not when they’re in public, and so many of the palace workers thought he was crazy. 

“What are you implying to Minseok?” Junmyeon inquires, voice low. 

Minseok’s eyes flash a light lavender this time, it strikes Junmyeon how Minseok’s eyes didn’t indicate anything about him, like most of the people on the golden planet. His eyes didn’t change based on his mood like Yixing’s. They had no course, no reason to change, and yet they did. Graduating from one hue to the next at random, one second as bright as the sun, the next as dark as a blood moon. 

“He doesn’t believe you, and now you let it slip.” Minseok states plainly, a coy smile growing on his face. He walks up to Junmyeon, smiling idly, eyes boring into him. Junmyeon’s eyes widen. He can’t help the way his body reacts, clambering away from Minseok who approaches too fast, too suddenly. Suddenly Junmyeon is against the wall, chest to chest with Minseok, who looks at Junmyeon with pure, unadulterated _fascination_. The look of pure concentration sends chills down Junmyeon’s spine. If he wasn’t scared into silence, Minseok’s look alone would have rendered him so. ”You’re different this time,” he murmurs, tilting his head. Minseok says nothing as Junmyeon shrinks down against the wall, unable to stop the chills that rack his body. “But I’ll get what I want eventually, you know that, right?”

Get what he wants. He means Yixing, and the thought makes Junmyeon sick. 

If Yixing was hot, fiery, a never-ending cause of burns, then Minseok was cold. Chilling, calculating, his touch also burned, but not like Yixing’s. His touch crept up slowly, slithering up so silently its presence was undetectable, before it choked you, left you coughing and gagging for air that never came, left you frozen in place, unable to move, speak, or even breathe. Leaving you frozen in shock. “You could never,” he whispers fiercely, and his legs are starting to give in. He’s sure of it now, Minseok _is_ the person who sentenced him to a doomed fate. Yixing was so wrong for doubting him. 

Minseok moves from the wall, “You really think that?” Minseok questions casually. “As long as I show interest in the peace treaties, he won’t kick me out. He wants it so badly” He pauses, turning to look back at Junmyeon, eyes a brilliant shade of magenta now. “He wants what’s best for the kingdom, after all. 

The headache is nearly blinding. “He—” 

“Aren’t you just pathetic?” Minseok sneers. “Look at you, you can barely get a sentence out. Do you need me to take you to the hospital wing? I will if you ask nicely.” 

“Don’t _touch_ me,” Junmyeon gasps out, and he’s sitting on the floor now, gripping his knees to try and stabilize himself. 

“I’ll give you a chance, Junmyeon,” His words are sweeter now, and Junmyeon tries to avoid his chilling gaze. The images of the moon keep playing in his head. Slowly falling towards Junmyeon. He sees the moon one second, and the sun the next. Back and forth and back and forth in a dizzying pattern that makes him want to do nothing more than curl up. There’s a piercing sound in his mind and it just _won’t go away_ , it slices through him, leaving him gasping for air, leaving him nearly crying in pain. “Tell him you wrong,” 

“Admit that I’m crazy?” Junmyeon grits out. 

Minseok’s lips slowly spread into a grin. “Mm, now that would be better. That would tie this whole thing up… but that would just make him more suspicious dear.” Minseok trails off, glancing at Junmyeon. The way he said dear was so unlike him, and Junmyeon wonders if Minseok was just as unstable with his God as he is. 

“I won’t do it,” 

Minseok fingers tapping a beat that resonates in Junmyeon’s head. Pounding,pounding, pounding, him down. “I could end you right now, you know.” Junmyeon’s vision starts to darken. His head feels dizzy, he wants nothing more for it to _stop_. He feels himself slowly start to give in. Minseok comes closer and crouches down, he’s at the same height as Junmyen now. He smiles pleasantly, too pleasantly. “Do you really want to die this way? With everyone thinking you’re crazy? And Yixing, poor Yixing would have to deal with the repercussions you know. Never mind if I were to back out. Being in love with a _lunatic?”_ Minseok empahses. “That’s enough for everyone to back out. So think carefully, about your decision.” 

Junmyeon won’t agree, _can’t_ agree. He chooses to be submerged into the darkness, instead of answering to Minseok’s insanity. 

When he awakens, he’s in the hospital wing. Minseok must have directed him there, the threat hanging from his lips. _I could end you right now, you know._ Yixing is right there, watching him with orange eyes. 

“Junmyeon,” he sighs, when Junmyeon’s eyes flutter open. “How many times are we going to be in this situation?” 

Junmyeon doesn’t even try to get up this time. 

“What happened now?” 

Junmyeon locks eyes with Yixing, “You know what happened.” 

Yixing winces, but his next words surprise Junmyeon. “Tell me you want him to leave, and I’ll take care of it.” he says lowly. “I’ll… I’ll figure another way for the peace treaties. Enough is enough, I can’t bear to see you go through this over and over again.” 

He’s choosing Junmyeon over the kingdom, and now that he actually is, the idea doesn’t sit right with Junmyeon. 

For whatever reason, Junmyeon _hesitates._ He thinks of Minseok, and his purple eyes and dunting gift and his presence is enough to make him recoil and yet he still falters. But he thinks about what he said, for the kingdom. The peace treaties Yixing has been working so hard for—

 _“We want him gone.”_ Junmyeon’s voice drops, low and sweet. 

_I would have handled it,_ Junmyeon thinks to Suho. 

_‘Would you have?’_

“Ok.” Yixing whispers, and he’s clutching Junmyeon’s hand tightly. “He’ll be gone as soon as I can make him leave.” 

Junmyeon can’t bring himself to respond, and is too busy trying to fight the darkness that threatens to overtake him. 

“You focus on recovering yourself, we’ll talk once you wake up.” The words bring a sweet and longed for sense of relief to him which only YIxing could give. “I’ll make sure that this time, they really do let me know first when you wake up.” 

That’s the last thing Junmyeon hears before slipping out of consciousness.

☾

_He knocks on the door softly, and when it pens he shoots the guards a smile. Walks in quietly, trying not to disturb the peaceful ambience. He bows the to the Prince, “Blessings and Glory to the Holy Empire,”_

_The Prince smiles, sets down whatever work he’s doing. “As glad as I am to see you, what are you doing here?_

_“I was told you requested an audience with me?”_

_“He didn’t,” the door shuts behind him, and she’s there, resting against it. “But I did,” she smiles, it’s too menacing. Cold and calculating, assessing his every word. He feels frozen to the spot, a low buzz under his skin he can’t describe. Her purple eyes glare back at him, burning into his soul. “I would say it’s about time we sorted this out, didnt you?”_

☾

Junmyeon is sick and tired of waking up. He finds himself wanting to remain in the dark state of his dreams instead of facing a reality that forces him to question everything he knows. It’s hard to wrap his mind around, and it doesn’t make sense. He was making things up. He really was crazy, crazy enough to believe that a God was residing in him. His existence. His life. Instead of the waking up to the night, or to the constellations, he wakes up to the most unsettling sight.

Minseok.

He sits beside Junmyeon’s bed, legs crossed and purple eyes glowing in the dark. By instinct, Junmyeon scrambles up, trying to put as much distance as he can between him and those unforgettable eyes. “What are you _doing_ here?” He gasps, half shocked, half enraged. 

“You really don’t know?” Minseok hums, and he stays seated. “You have something of mine Junmyeon, and I’m going to need it back.” 

For whatever reason, the first thing that comes to mind is Yixing. But Junmyeon knows he’s talking about the letters. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” 

“Ignorance is bliss,” Minseok shrugs, and when he gets up Junmyeon notes that he’s changed into different clothes. No more heavy robes, but a light material that sticks to his skin, the length of his collar could be pulled up to cover his face. It screams one thing: stealth. “Or death.” He finishes, his voice low. 

“It’s too late,” Junmyeon admits. Yixing has the proof, Minseok’s letters, and the words of a God to go by. Even if Yixing chose to ignore the letters, it would be impossible for him to go against Suho. Considering how his own counterpart, the Sun God, wouldn’t let him disregard his lovers opinion so easily. 

“It’s too _late?_ No. Never.” When Minseok advances, Junmyeon tumbles out of the bed. It’ll be a one on one match, and Junmyeon isn’t sure he’ll win. “You just took away my advantage, but luckily I can always gain another one.” 

“Advantage?” Junmyeon can’t but question, why isn’t Minseok trembling in fear? He was exposed. Junmyeon forces himself to think. The lies in the letters. Minseok was the representative, and had direct contact with his kingdom’s king. _He’s the eyes and ears, so to speak._ Whispering his lies directly into the King’s willing ears. 

“You tricked us,” Junmyeon whispers, eyes blown wide. He needed to tell Yixing. Minseok’s army was on their way now, armed with advanced weaponry and a thirst to kill. There’s a chance they’ll win against Yixing’s kingdom, they have the advantage of a surprise. No, that’s the advantage Junmyeon took from Minseok. “You’ll never defeat us,” Junmyeon is defiant. 

“You were against us all along,” Junmyeon says, and the words hold a weight he cannot fathom. “You _lied,”_ And Junmyeon thinks about all the letters. All the lies he had read with his _own eyes._ Why hadn’t he forced Yixing to read them? Been more incessant about it instead of arguing pointlessly with him. How had he been so blind? Instead of providing proof he held on the weak hope that Yixing would trust his words alone. His naivety could get them killed.

“I’ve done it once. Twice. Hundreds of times. It’s inevitable.” 

“You can’t—” 

“All you had to do was die.” His nose wrinkles in disdain. “All this would’ve been avoided if you had just let me kill you back then, Suho.” 

“What are you talking about?” His hands are balled in fear. He’s not Suho. He’s Junmyeon. Suho had been shoved into a dark corner of Junmyeon’s mind, by his curser Junmyeon can only assume. The curser who followed through the lifetimes. 

“You really don’t know?” Minseok’s eyes flash purple, a darker purple. Purple. Violets. Junmyeon’s mother. Purple magic. Purple. Flowers. Junmyeon’s _Mother—_

“It was you,” Junmyeon whispers, voice shaking at the revelation. “You tried to kill me.” The moment is branded so freshly in his mind. His mother’s hand, the purple magic that had strengthened her, the way her fingers had wrapped around his throat. The sword that had pierced her body. 

“I thought I had killed you before I was slain. Turns out I was wrong.” Her, his, voice is so chilling, so _cold._ “You somehow managed to evade me.” The lady from his dreams. Her purple eyes. The purple magic. Minseok’s purple eyes. The curser, in the flesh.

By the _sun,_ when Yixing had killed his Mother, he had killed her. It was her who tried to kill him, not his Mother. It was _her_ who wrapped her fingers around Junmyeon’s throat, not his Mother. He thinks about how Yixing always talked of Junmyeon’s Mother, no respect. No remorse. Maybe he knew. Maybe he was the Sun God. Junmyeon has no time to dwell on it.

“And now you’ll pay the price. They’ll pay the price.” 

“Minseok… he wasn’t always like this. You, you possessed him.” Minseok was a good person. She had corrupted him, slithered into his body and poisoned his mind from the inside. No wonder Yixing spoke so highly of him, at one point he was good. He had wanted real peace, and she had ruined their chances of it.

“Maybe,” Minseok murmurs as if he can read Junmyeon’s mind. “I wasn’t planning to, at first. Peace is always, always appealing.” 

“Then why—” 

“Why do you think?” And this time Minseok’s voice is higher, sweeter. It’s not his voice, Junmyeon realizes blatantly. It’s hers. The witch. The woman who cursed him. “You really don’t know?” Minseok’s eyes narrow, and Junmyeon’s brain is reeling. 

Because of him. The realization makes Junmyeon sick. She thought Yixing— no, _the Sun God_ — wasn’t spoken for. She thought she could woo him, let their love take a natural course, and then his birthday. His birthday had ruined that. She had seen their hands, she had seen the love in Yixing’s eyes. 

“He was vulnerable.” It’s weird to hear Minseok refer to himself in third person, it’s strange that this woman is speaking through Minseok’s mouth. “And you were right there, so close to being in my clutches. I had my suspicions, but they were _very_ good at keeping the mysterious friend of the Prince occupied.” 

No, that was all Junmyeon, in avoiding Yixing he had bought some time. A little. Not nearly enough. 

“You won’t get away with this—”

“My army will be here soon Junmyeon,” It’s not a threat. Junmyeon knows the extent of Minseok ’s army. Soldiers bred from the best, strong and stealthy, trained from birth to serve the heir. “But they won’t be enough to convince Yixing,” Minseok finishes, and his eyes are burning into Junmyeon. 

He wishes he could call on Suho, call on his powers of unimaginable strength and escape Minseok’s clutches, but he’s left powerless and afraid. 

“But you… you’ll do perfectly. Yes, you could be our new advantage.” 

“I would n—”

“That’s enough from you.” Minseok says. In one easy hand swiping movement, Minseok knocks out Junmyeon to the ground with his magic. He can’t move, can barely breathe, he’s frozen still staring at Minseok’s feet. “Time to go to sleep Junmyeon,” There’s a smile in his voice. Her voice. It’s interchangeable now, both are filled to the brim with hate. “Let’s see what evil awaits you there.”

☾

__  
**Wake up.**  


_Do I have to?_

_**Yes, you need to.** _

_But it’s so...relaxing here. No need to think, or dwell…_

_**Please. You have to save us.** _

_From who? I only see darkness. It’s comforting, like a warm embrace—_

_**It won’t be warm when it retracts. You’ll find yourself alone again.** _

_No, please, I can’t be alone. Not again, not again._

_**Then wake up.** _

_Ah, but the universe is cruel. She doesn’t want me here._

_**Even if she doesn’t, I’m here.** _

_You’re not enough_. 

_**Amusing, but there’s no one else here you know.** _

_So it’s just you and me?_

_**Just you and me.** _

_Will you stay?_

_**For as long as I can.** _

_What happens when I wake up?_

_**I’ll be there, waiting.** _

☾

Junmyeon’s eyes flutter open, and he can feel the sunlight streaming through the windows. Warm and pleasant on his toes. He’s under a quilt, and it’s a little too hot but he doesn’t mind. The room is empty, but cozy. White walls, and just big enough for him. He's got a little table on his side, and on it is a hand-held mirror.

“Myeonnie, you awake?” A concerned voice asks, and he can hear the worry dripping from it. 

“Wide awake,” He replies, a little groggy and sleep satisfied. His eyes begin to slowly shut again, and he can’t help how much he wants to sink back into slumber. 

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” and this time the voice is beside him, gentle but stern. “Don’t fall back asleep on me,” he looks beside him, and his Mother is standing there. She looks as beautiful as ever, radiant even at her old age. He looks like her, apparently. “You had me worried sick,” 

“I’m fine, Ma,” He tries, but it’s no use. She sets a bowl down filled with water, gently soaks a cloth in the bowl and wrings it out. “Seriously—” 

She brings it to his face, it’s warm and feels relaxing. He closes his eyes again. She gently wipes away at marks Junmyeon can’t see. “Never do that again, Junmyeon.” She frowns, “I should have never let you run around and do whatever you pleased when you were a kid. This is what I got in return.” 

“Do what?” Junmyeon frowns, and he really has no idea what she’s referring to. 

“Don’t be coy, it won’t work this time.” She places the cloth down on the small wooden table. “Really, you nearly scared the death out of me!”

He tries to remember, but all he remembers is being asleep. It feels like it’s been out for a long time. “How long have I been out for?”

She raises her eyebrows at that, crossing her arms over his chest. “Haha, very funny. Don’t be dramatic, it’s only been a few hours.” 

A _few hours_. Somehow it seems wrong, but he doesn’t really dwell on it. He’s clearly out of it. “And you’re worried because…?” he tries to glean more out of her, without making her suspicious about his failing memory. He doesn’t need her to get more worried about him. 

“You tell me,” and the playfulness is slowly fading away into a stern, more angry front. “Chanyeol found you passed out in the fields, bloodied and bruised. He had no idea what happened, and neither did I,” She pauses her frustrated tirade, looking at evenly. “I let you have your freedom, but you still need to exercise caution you know.” She looks adorable when angry, and Junmyeon wants to go back to when he was a kid. When he was young enough to charm her to stop scolding him.

Back then, no matter how angry she was she would always indulge him. Kiss his head sweetly. Beam at him after he came back from wandering by himself. Singing lullabies as she washed his dirty hair. Laughing as he went on tangents describing his journeys and fights, which villain he defeated, or what monster he captured that day. A time where they would go about their day until nightfall, and she would tell him his nightly bed story. 

Stories about… he can’t remember. He wishes he did. 

“Speaking of Chanyeol, you need to go visit him, you know. He’s worried out of his mind, he keeps knocking on our door wondering if you’re awake.” Chanyeol...Chanyeol. The name is familiar, rolls off Junmyeon’s tongue with a familiarity that can’t be faked. He thinks of deep golden eyes, and a dimpled smile. 

“Well I guess I should go check up on him then,” Junmyeon replies, half sheepish, half embarrassed. He shuffles out of bed, “I’ll go freshen up first.” 

“Make sure you look good when you go to see him,” There’s a teasing glint in her loving eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Junmyeon rolls his eyes, and he picks up the mirror. He looks pale, but refreshed. Decent, at most. For a second, his eyes glint silver. Weird. A trick of the light, probably. 

“Oh you know _exactly_ what I’m talking about,” His mother sing-songs, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. “He’s been sweet on you since you two were _kids,”_

Kids. Right. Junmyeon thinks of golden eyes that belong to a kid. Eyes filled with experience and wisdom beyond their years. Eyes that silently declared ‘Mine’.

“Whatever,” he grouses, “I’ll head down there soon.” 

“I’ll come with you, or well a bit after you. Give you two your… _space.”_

“Ma!” Junmyeon yells, his face burning at the silent implications. “He’s just a friend.” 

“Tell that to him,” She winks, a smile adorning her face. “You better get a move on it.” 

It doesn’t take him long to get ready. He just washes his face and straightens his clothes, and heads over to Chanyeol. He doesn’t quite know the way, but his feet take him on their own. He reaches a stone house, wooden door taller than him by far. He raises his hand and knocks, once, twice. Borders on a third when the door flings open, and he’s face to chest with someone he...knows?

There are no golden eyes, but warm brown ones. Brown hair that curls endearingly by his ears, wide eyes that stare down at him in shock. “Junmyeon?” a deep, baritone voice. 

“Chanyeol,” he responds, blinking. For whatever reason, he had pictured someone else. Black hair, golden eyes. Strange. “Ah, My mother told me to drop by—” 

“Are you alright?” he cuts in, reaches over to hold Junmyeon’s hands. They’re warm, and gentle, and big, and Junmyeon’s face burns for whatever reason. 

“I’m fine I—,” He thinks about what his Mother said. “Thank you for finding me, bringing me home.” His words come out soft, and he’s too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. 

“Of course,” Chanyeol’s eyes scan his body, up and down. “You look much better.” 

“A good night’s rest will do that to you,” he chuckles. 

“More like a good afternoon nap,” Chanyeol jokes, but his smile fades, and his eyes are boring into Junmyeon’s. “What were you doing there?” 

Doing where? Junmyeon wants to ask, because he doesn’t remember. Has no idea where he was before waking up. All he remembers is darkness, and a pretty voice. “You know just...wandering.” 

“Just wandering?” Chanyeol asks, and it’s meant to be nonchalant, but there’s an edge to it. He’s clearly bothered by something. “Junmyeon when I found you, you had collapsed. Dead to the world,” and somehow his words are familiar. “Tell me what happened.” he urges. 

“I couldn’t answer even if I tried.” He hopes it’s enough for Chanyeol to stop hounding him. It’s probably not. He can feel a headache building up behind his eyes. 

Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something, probably a witty retort. Words laced with anger about secrets and Junmyeon needing to be safe, but someone calls his name. 

“Chanyeol! Hello there!” They call out prettily and sweetly. Junmyeon’s mother. He let’s go of Chanyeol’s hands quickly, dropping them like they’re burning his hands. He turns around and smiles at his Mom despite being unsettled. 

“Aunty,” Chanyeol greets in return, but his enthusiasm is lacking. 

He bends down to hug her, and Junmyeon looks down at his feet. She places a hand on Junmyeon’s arm, smiling. “I hope you don’t mind but I need to steal my son away,” 

“Of course,” Chanyeol replies, and he’s trying to get Junmyeon to look at him. Junmyeon can’t get the images of gold eyes out of his mind. So familiar… so haunting. 

“Junmyeon?” His Mother asks, snapping him out of his thoughts. He smiles at her, recollecting himself. “Come with me to the market?” 

“Sure,” Junmyeon responds without hesitation. 

“Say your goodbyes dear, I’ll be standing over there.” 

“Goodbye Chanyeol,” He says hastily before his Mother goes away. 

Chanyeol gives him a hug, and Junmyeon closes his eyes, trying to feel the comfort. 

He finds more comfort in the darkness his eyes provide.

☾

Junmyeon’s eyes flutter open, and he can feel the sunlight streaming through the windows. Warm and pleasant on his toes. He’s under a quilt, and it’s a little too hot but he doesn’t mind. The room is empty, but cozy. White walls, and just big enough for him. He's got a little table on his side, and on it is a hand-held mirror.

“Myeonnie? Thank the goddess you’re awake. ” A concerned voice pipes up, and he can hear the worry dripping from it. 

“Wide awake,” He replies, a little groggy and sleep satisfied. His eyes begin to slowly shut again, and he can’t help how much he wants to sink back into slumber. 

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” and this time the voice is beside him, gentle but stern. “Don’t fall back asleep on me,” he looks beside him, and his Mother is standing there. She looks as beautiful as ever, radiant even at her old age. He looks like her, apparently. “You had me worried sick,” She sets a bowl down filled with water, gently soaks a cloth in the bowl and wrings it out.

“Worried sick?” he questions, frowning. “What happened?” 

She brings it to his face, it’s a little too warm. He closes his eyes again. She gently wipes away at marks Junmyeon can’t see. “Don’t mess around.” She frowns, “I should have never let you run around and do whatever you pleased when you were a kid. This is what I got in return.” 

“What?” Junmyeon frowns, and he really has no idea what she’s referring to. Was his Mom ok? 

“Don’t be coy, it won’t work this time.” She places the cloth down on the small wooden table. “Really, you nearly scared the death out of me!”

He tries to remember, but all he remembers is being asleep. It feels like it’s been out for a long time.”What did I… never mind. How long have I been out for?”

She raises her eyebrows at that, crossing her arms over his chest. “A few hours honey, oh thank the Goddess,” she repeats. “My precious boy…” 

A _few hours_. Somehow it seems wrong, he feels like he’s been sleeping for longer. Way longer. He’s clearly out of it. “What happened?” he tries to glean more out of her, without making her suspicious about his failing memory. He doesn’t need her to get more worried about him. 

“You tell me,” and the worry is slowly fading away into a stern, more angry front. “Chanyeol found you passed out in the fields, bloodied and bruised. He was frantic, rambling about the fields and what not,” She pauses her frustrated tirade, looking at evenly. “I let you have your freedom, but you still need to exercise caution you know.” The look on her face is stern and Junmyeon wants to go back to when he was a kid. When he was young enough to charm her 

Back then, no matter how angry she was she would always indulge him. Kiss his head sweetly. Beam at him after he came back from wandering by himself. Singing lullabies as she washed his dirty hair. Laughing as he went on tangents describing his journeys and fights, which villain he defeated, or what monster he captured that day. A time where they would go about their day until nightfall, and she would tell him his nightly bed story. 

Stories about… he can’t remember. He frowns, and really tries to remember. Nothing. He just remembers her gentle smile, her purple eyes looking down at him— purple? Impossible. He glances at his Mom, her eyes were brown. Purple? Ridiculous. Maybe he did lose more than his conscious earlier. 

“Speaking of Chanyeol, you need to go visit him, you know. He’s worried out of his mind, he comes by every hour to check up on you.” Chanyeol...Chanyeol. The name is familiar, rolls of Junmyeon’s tongue with a familiarity that can’t be faked. He thinks of deep golden eyes, a dimpled smile, dark hair and a crown. 

“Well I guess I should go see how he is then,” Junmyeon replies, half confused, half obedient. He shuffles out of bed, “I’ll go freshen up first.” 

“There’s no need for that, he’ll think you look good no matter what,” There’s a teasing glint in her eyes. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Junmyeon rolls his eyes, and he picks up the mirror. He looks pale, decent, at most. For a second, his eyes glow silver. He blinks, and it’s gone. Just like that. He stares a little longer than necessary, and there’s a name at the tip of his tongue. A name that isn’t Chanyeol. 

“Oh you know what I mean,” His mother pats his cheek. “He’s been sweet on you since you two were _kids,”_

Kids? Junmyeon scrunches his eyes. He sees a flash of soldiers, no that wasn’t right. He sees dry fields and wispy forests. Right. Junmyeon thinks of golden eyes that belong to a kid. Eyes filled with experience and wisdom beyond their years. Eyes that silently declared _‘Mine’._

“Whatever, I’ll head down there soon.” 

“I’ll come fetch you, in a bit. I need to pick up some medicine for you...but I’ll still give you two your space,”

“Ma,” Junmyeon winces, her words don’t sit well with him. “He’s just a friend.” 

“Tell that to him,” She winks, a smile adorning her face. “You better get a move on it.” 

It doesn’t take him long to get ready. He just washes his face and heads over to Chanyeol. He doesn’t quite know the way, doesn’t remember it at all actually, but his feet take him with on their own. He reaches a stone house, wooden door taller than him by far. He raises his hand and knocks, once, twice. Borders on a third when the door flings open, and he’s face to _chest_ with someone he...doesn’t remember. 

There are no shocking golden eyes, but warm brown ones. Brown hair that curls endearingly by his ears, not black hair. Wide eyes that stare down at him in shock, not eyes that have an entirely different message. “Junmyeon?” a deep, baritone voice. 

“Chanyeol,” he responds, blinking. For whatever reason, he expected him to sound different. Calmer, soothing. A touch more...refined. “My mother told me to drop by—” 

“Are you alright?” he cuts in, reaches over to hold Junmyeon’s hands. They’re warm, and gentle, and big, and Junmyeon’s face burns for whatever reason. 

It rubs Junmyeon in the wrong way, but he thinks about what his Mother said. “Thank you for bringing me home,” he looks down at his feet, and back up to Chanyeol. His expression is the same. 

“Of course,” Chanyeol’s eyes scan his body, up and down. “You look much better.” 

“A good night’s rest will do that to you,” he muses. 

“More like a good afternoon nap,” Chanyeol jokes, but his smile fades, and so does Junmyeon’s. “What were you doing there?” 

“Doing _where?”_ Junmyeon asks, because he doesn’t remember. Has no idea where he was before waking up. All he remembers is darkness, and a pretty voice. 

“The fields, Junmyeon” Chanyeol frowns, and Junmyeon remembers no fields. Just ornate hallways and his stone home. Chanyeol looks agitated, clearly bothered by something. “Junmyeon when I found you, you had collapsed. Dead to the world,” and somehow his words are familiar. “Tell me what happened.” he urges. 

“I wish I could,” He answers truthfully. He can feel a headache building up behind his eyes. 

Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something, probably a witty retort. Words laced with anger about secrets and Junmyeon needing to be safe, but someone calls his name. 

“Chanyeol! Hello there!” They call out prettily and sweetly. Junmyeon’s mother. He quickly let’s go of Chanyeol’s hands, dropping them like they’re burning his hands. He turns around and smiles at his Mom despite being unsettled. 

“Aunty,” Chanyeol greets in return, but his enthusiasm is lacking. 

He bends down to hug her, and Junmyeon looks down at his feet. She places a hand on Junmyeon’s arm, smiling. “I hope you don’t mind but I need to steal my son away,” 

“Of course,” Chanyeol replies, and he’s trying to get Junmyeon to look at him. Junmyeon can’t get the images of gold eyes out of his mind. So familiar… so haunting. So unlike Chanyeol’s he wonders why he thought of it in the first place. 

“Junmyeon?” His Mother asks, snapping him out of his thoughts. He smiles at her, recollecting himself. “Come with me to the market?” 

Junmyeon hesitates, but there’s something about her that makes him agree. 

“Say your goodbyes dear, I’ll be standing over there.” 

“Goodbye Chanyeol,” He says hastily before his Mother goes away. 

Chanyeol gives him a hug, and Junmyeon closes his eyes, trying to feel the comfort. 

He doesn’t like how tightly Chanyeol holds him, or how his eyes squeeze shut in the discomfort.

☾

Junmyeon’s eyes flutter open, and he can feel the sunlight streaming through the windows. Warm and pleasant on his toes. He’s under a quilt, and it’s a little too hot but he doesn’t mind. The room is empty, but cozy. White walls, and just big enough for him. He's got a little table on his side, and on it is a hand-held mirror.

“Junmyeon!” A concerned voice exclaims,”You’re finally up, thank the Goddess,” and he can hear the worry dripping from it. 

“I’m... awake,” He replies, andhe says it like he can’t believe it himself. His eyes begin to slowly shut again, and he can’t help how much he wants to sink back into slumber. 

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” and this time the voice is beside him, gentle but stern. “I won’t let you fall asleep on me,” he looks beside him, and his Mother is standing there. She looks as beautiful as ever, radiant even at her old age. He looks like her, apparently. “You had me worried _sick!”_ She sets a bowl down filled with water, gently soaks a cloth in the bowl and wrings it out.

“Worried sick?” he questions, frowning.“What’s the matter?” 

“You’re the matter!” And there’s something about the way she says it that makes Junmyeon frown, it feels like a dig. A mean one. She brings it to his face,wiping things he can’t see. It’s too hot and he flinches away. “Don’t even try it,” She frowns, “I should have never let you run around and do whatever you pleased when you were a kid. This is what I got in return.” 

_“What’d_ you get in return?” Junmyeon frowns, and he really has no idea what she’s referring to. Was his Mom ok? 

“Don’t be coy,” She looks at him sharply. “it won’t work this time.” She places the cloth down on the small wooden table. “Really, you nearly scared the death out of me!”

He tries to remember, but all he remembers is being asleep. It feels like it’s been out for a long time. Something doesn’t feel right. “Ma… What’d I do?”

She steamrolls over his question, crossing her arms over his chest. “You’ve been knocked out for hours honey,” She shakes her head. “You really want me to have a heart attack, don’t you?”

A _few hours._ Somehow it seems very, very wrong. Junmyeon hasn’t been sleeping for hours. He feels like he’s been sleeping for longer. So long it feels like he’s been pulled out of his slumber. “What happened?” he tries to glean more out of her, without making her suspicious about his failing memory. He doesn’t need her to get more worried about him. 

“You tell me,” she’s frowning severely. “Chanyeol found you passed out in the fields, bloodied and bruised. Poor thing was frantic with worry,” She pauses her frustrated tirade, looking at evenly. “I let you have your freedom, but you still need to exercise caution you know.” The look on her face is stern and Junmyeon wants to go back to when he was a kid. When he was young enough to charm her to stop scolding him.

Back then, no matter how angry she was she would always indulge him. Kiss his head sweetly. Beam at him after he came back from wandering by himself. Singing lullabies as she washed his dirty hair. Laughing as he went on tangents describing his journeys and fights, which villain he defeated, or what monster he captured that day. A time where they would go about their day until nightfall, and she would tell him his nightly bed story. 

Stories about… the Moon? He frowns, and really tries to remember. There’s not much. He just remembers her gentle smile, her purple eyes looking down at him, yes that’s right. His Mother’s eyes were purple. He glances at his Mom, her eyes were brown. He could’ve sworn they were purple.

“Speaking of Chanyeol, you need to go visit him, you know. He’s worried out of his mind, he comes by every hour to check up on you.” Chanyeol...Chanyeol. The name isn’t that familiar, rolls off Junmyeon’s tongue with a familiarity that can’t be faked. He thinks of deep golden eyes, a dimpled smile, dark hair and a crown. He thinks of silver eyes, and a pretty, melodic voice. _Yixing,_ his mind whispers, not Chanyeol. Junmyeon doesn’t know anyone named Yixing. But he doesn’t know anyone named Chanyeol either.

“I should get to that then,” Junmyeon replies, eager to get out. “I’ll go freshen up first.” 

“There’s no need for that, he’ll think you look good no matter what,” There’s a teasing glint in her brown, brown eyes. 

“It’s not like that,” Junmyeon frowns, not liking what she’s insinuating. He picks up the mirror. He looks pale and awful, really. For a second, his eyes glow silver. He blinks, and watches in shock as his reflection _doesn’t._ It just stares back at him, silver eyes burning. 

“Junmyeon?” His Mother calls out. 

He sets the mirror down quickly. There’s a name at the tip of his tongue. A name that isn’t Chanyeol. _Guardian._ His mind whispers.

“Oh Junmyeon, His mother, pats his cheek. “He’s been sweet on you since you two were kids. Why don’t you try…?” The rest of her sentence blurs out. 

Kids? Junmyeon scrunches his eyes. He sees a flash of soldiers, an army swift and quick. That can’t be...he sees dry fields and wispy forests. No, that wasn’t it either. Junmyeon thinks of golden eyes that belong to a kid. Eyes filled with experience and wisdom beyond their years. Eyes that silently declared _‘Mine’._ Eyes that bore into him, and tells him that...he’s loved?

“I’ll...I’ll head down there now.” 

“I’ll come fetch you, in a bit. I need to pick up some medicine for you...but I’ll still give you two your space,”

“He’s just a friend.” a curt response. 

“Tell that to him,” She winks, a smile adorning her face.

“Enough!” he snaps, and then he blinks in shock from the intensity of his own words. Even his Mother looks shocked, 

“Get a move on it,” is all she says. 

He just goes and heads over to Chanyeol. He doesn’t quite know the way, doesn’t remember it at all actually, but his feet take him with on their own. He reaches a stone house, wooden door taller than him by far. He raises his hand and knocks, once, twice. Borders on a third when the door flings open, and he’s face to _chest_ with someone he...doesn’t remember at all. 

There are no shocking golden eyes, but warm brown ones. Brown hair that curls endearingly by his ears, not black hair. Wide eyes that stare down at him in shock, not eyes that have an entirely different message. “Junmyeon?” a deep, baritone voice. Everything about him screams friend, everything about Junmyeon’s reaction screams stranger. 

“Chan...yeol,?” he responds, blinking. For whatever reason, he expected him to sound different. Calmer, soothing. A touch more...refined. Expected him to look different too. “My mother told me to drop by—” 

“Are you alright?” he cuts in, reaches over to hold Junmyeon’s hands. They’re warm, and gentle, and big, and Junmyeon immediately shakes his hands out of the grip. 

It rubs Junmyeon in the wrong way, but he thinks about what his Mother said. “Did you bring me home?” he looks Chanyeol in the eyes.

“Of course,” Chanyeol’s eyes scan his body, up and down. “You look much better.” 

“Sleep does that.” 

“More like a good afternoon nap,” Chanyeol jokes, but his smile fades, and Junmyeon’s was never there in the first place. “What were you doing there?” 

“Where was I?” Junmyeon asks, because he doesn’t remember. Has no idea where he was before waking up. All he remembers is darkness, and a pretty voice.

“The forests, Junmyeon” Chanyeol frowns, and Junmyeon remembers no fields. Just ornate hallways and his stone home. 

“Wasn’t I in the fields?” he questions, frowning. 

Chanyeol looks agitated, clearly bothered by something. “Junmyeon when I found you, you had collapsed. In the _forests._ Dead to the world,” and somehow his words are unfamiliar. “Tell me what happened.” he urges. 

“You tell me what happened” He snaps impatiently. He can feel a headache building up behind his eyes. 

Chanyeol opens his mouth to say something, probably a witty retort.His eyes are wide with anger, and he’ll probably release a torrent of words laced with anger about secrets and Junmyeon needing to be _safe,_ but someone calls his name. 

“Chanyeol! Hello there!” They call out prettily and sweetly. Junmyeon’s mother. He turns around and watches as she approaches. 

“Aunty,” Chanyeol greets in return, but his enthusiasm is lacking. 

He bends down to hug her, and Junmyeon looks down at his feet. She places a hand on Junmyeon’s arm, smiling. Junmyeon wants to shake it off. “I hope you don’t mind but I need to steal my son away,” 

“Of course,” Chanyeol replies, and he’s trying to get Junmyeon to look at him. Junmyeon can’t get the images of gold eyes out of his mind. So familiar… so haunting. So unlike Chanyeol’s, could never _belong_ to Chanyeol. 

“Junmyeon?” His Mother asks, snapping him out of his thoughts. He smiles at her, recollecting himself. “Come with me to the market?” 

“I… I don’t think I will.” 

“Junmyeon,” His mother repeats, “Come with me to the market?” 

He doesn’t even respond, she just squeezes his arm. 

“Say your goodbyes dear, I’ll be standing over there.” 

He doesn’t want to say goodbye, infact, he doesn’t. He just stands there until Chanyeol pulls him into an unwilling hug.

He doesn’t like how tightly Chanyeol holds him, and he closes his eyes to get it over with as quickly as possible.

☾

Junmyeon’s eyes flutter open, and he can feel the sunlight streaming through the windows. Warm and pleasant on his toes. He’s under a quilt, and it’s a little too hot but he doesn’t mind. The room is empty, but cozy. White walls, and just big enough for him. He's got a little table on his side, and on it is a hand-held mirror.

“Junmyeon!” A concerned voice exclaims,”You’re finally up, thank the Goddess,” and he can hear the worry dripping from it. 

_Am I?_ He wants to reply, His eyes begin to slowly shut again, and he can’t help how much he wants to sink back into slumber. 

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” and this time the voice is beside him, stern. “I won’t let you fall asleep on me,” he looks beside him, and his Mother is standing there. She looks as beautiful as ever, radiant even at her old age. He looks like her, apparently. “You had me worried _sick!”_ She sets a bowl down filled with water, gently soaks a cloth in the bowl and wrings it out.

“What happened?” he questions, frowning.

“You!” And there’s something about the way she says it that makes Junmyeon frown, it feels like a dig. A mean one. She brings it to his face, takes it from her instead. It burns his hand. “Don’t even try it,” She frowns, not noticing. “I should have never let you run around and do whatever you pleased when you were a kid. This is what I got in return.” 

“What happened?” Junmyeon presses. 

“Don’t be coy,” She looks at him sharply. “it won’t work this time.” She places the cloth down on the small wooden table. “Really, you nearly scared the death out of me!”

He tries to remember, but all he remembers is being asleep. It feels like it’s been out for a long time. Something is _wrong._ “What’d I do?”

She steamrolls over his question, crossing her arms over his chest. “You’ve been knocked out for hours honey,” She shakes her head. “You really want me to have a heart attack, don’t you?”

 _A few hours._ It’s just wrong. Junmyeon hasn’t been sleeping for _hours._ He’s been sleeping for much longer. So long it feels like he’s been pulled out of his slumber. “What are you not telling me?”

“What are _you_ not telling _me?”_ she’s frowning severely. “Chanyeol found you passed out in the fields, bloodied and bruised. Poor thing was frantic with worry,” She pauses her frustrated tirade, looking at evenly. “I let you have your freedom, but you still need to exercise caution you know.” The look on her face is stern and Junmyeon wants to go back to when he was a kid. When he was young enough to charm her to stop scolding him.

Back then, no matter how angry she was she would always indulge him. Kiss his head sweetly. Beam at him after he came back from wandering by himself. Singing lullabies as she washed his dirty hair. Laughing as he went on tangents describing his journeys and fights, which villain he defeated, or what monster he captured that day. A time where they would go about their day until nightfall, and she would tell him his nightly bed story. 

Stories about… the Moon. The Sun. The Gods? He frowns. He doesn’t remember much. He just remembers her gentle smile, her purple eyes looking down at him, yes that’s right. His Mother’s eyes were purple. He glances at his Mom, her eyes were brown. Something is very wrong. 

“Speaking of Chanyeol, you need to go visit him, you know. He’s worried out of his mind, he comes by every hour to check up on you.” Chanyeol...Chanyeol. The name isn’t familiar, but rolls off his tongue like it is. He thinks of deep golden eyes, a dimpled smile, dark hair and a crown. He thinks of silver eyes, and a pretty, melodic voice. _Yixing,_ his mind whispers, not Chanyeol. 

“Don’t you mean Yixing?” 

His Mother looks over at him sharply. “Who?” 

He doesn’t dare to repeat it, something about the name seems dear. He holds it to his heart, and urges himself to try and remember. He sees a palace, a handsome man, deep golden eyes, a dimpled smile, dark hair and a crown. Not Chanyeol, _Yixing._

“I’ll go to him...I guess?”

“Make sure you look nice,” There’s a teasing glint in her brown, brown eyes. 

“Why?” Junmyeon frowns, not liking what she’s insinuating. He picks up the mirror. He looks pale and awful, really. For a second, his eyes glow silver. He blinks, not in shock, but like he’s swimming in deja vu. It just stares back at him, silver eyes burning. It brings a hand to its mouth. It’s engraved with eyes. 

“Junmyeon?” His Mother calls out. 

He sets the mirror down slowly. There’s a name at the tip of his tongue. A name that isn’t Chanyeol. _Guardian._ His mind says, “Suho,” he says like he has no control of his words. The name flashes in his mind, emblazoned in silver.

His Mother freezes, eyes flashing. “What?” 

“Suho,” Junmyeon repeats, and he’s remembering something. Darkness, a pretty voice in the dark. _Wake up._ Darkness, he’s in a cage. Someone stares at him with purple eyes that make him feel overwhelmed. _You’re remembering._ His eyes widen, _Suho._ He impulsively reaches his hand into the mirror, and then the room starts to _crack._ The walls disintegrated into ash and the ground peeling at his feet. _Break us out._

Suddenly his Mother’s neck snaps upwards. Her eyes were no longer bright but consumed by a black darkness. Her hand shakily reaches out towards Junmyeon, fine strands of purple magic wrapped around it. She’s got Junmyeon pinned down, a hand on his throat. He can’t breath, can’t move, is frozen as she kills him. 

“You’ll never escape,” She hisses, right before he blacks out.

☾

Junmyeon’s eyes flutter open, and he can feel the sunlight streaming through the windows. Warm and pleasant on his toes. He’s under a quilt, and it’s a little too hot but he doesn’t mind. The room is empty, but cozy. White walls, and just big enough for him. He's got a little table on his side, and on it is a hand-held mirror.

“Junmyeon!” A concerned voice exclaims,”You’re finally up, thank the Goddess,” and he can hear the worry dripping from it. 

“Am I?” He replies, His eyes begin to slowly shut again, and he can’t help how much he wants to sink back into slumber. 

_Darkness, a pretty voice in the dark. Wake up._

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” and this time the voice is beside him, stern. “I won’t let you fall asleep on me,” he looks beside him, and his Mother is standing there. She looks as beautiful as ever, radiant even at her old age. He looks like her, apparently. “You had me worried _sick!”_ She sets a bowl down filled with water, gently soaks a cloth in the bowl and wrings it out.

_Darkness, he’s in a cage. Someone stares at him with purple eyes that make him feel overwhelmed. You’re remembering._

He frowns, and then his eyes widen, _Suho._

“Ma…?” He asks slowly, feeling his heartbeat accelerate. 

“Yes honey?” 

“You’re not real are you?” he asks, and he doesn’t know why. 

“Junmyeon!” And there’s something about the way she says it that makes Junmyeon frown, as if she’s not used to saying her own son’s name. She brings it to his face, takes it from her instead. It burns his hand. 

“Don’t even try!” He yells her words, but he means it, jumping up from the bed. He makes a frantic grab for the mirror, and her eyes go from brown to purple at a revolting pace. 

“You’re making a mistake,” She rasps, raising her hands. The walls start to crumble, and the ground beneath his feet cracks. 

He yells the God’s name, reaches into the mirror and _yanks._ The God bursts from the mirror, and leaves Junmyeon in awe.

 _‘Kill her before she kills you,’_ the voice echoes Suho’s voice. 

Junmyeon isn’t a killer. Not like her. He glances at Suho and hopes the message is understood. The ground cracks, and Junmyeon is consumed by darkness.

☾

Junmyeon screams when he plunges into the dark and it’s happened to him so many times he’s not sure why he’s so shocked. The sound barely makes it out his throat, and the light is so blinding, so unlike the darkness that normally consumes him. It’s not a hard landing, but it’s not gentle either. His body cracks from the impact, but luckily nothing seems to break.

He doesn’t wake up this time, not quite. He opens his eyes with a gasp, Minseok’s name on his tongue and the shock running through him. When he opens his eyes he’s not met with his bedroom, or Yixing’s bedroom. He doesn’t wake up to Minseok’s burning eyes, or to the sunlight that streams through his curtains. When he opens his eyes,His heart seizes, and he immediately recognizes where he is. 

He’s dreamt of this place many times, dreamt of the wispy forests and dry fields. Dreamt of this simpler time, where he roamed fields happily, Fighting imaginary armies, equipped with the best gold armor, and wielding the most dangerous of weapons with his bare, tiny hands. He doesn’t even notice his hands are shaking until he brings one to cover his mouth, a weak attempt to hide the choking sound that comes out. 

He’s on the floor, back laying on the ground. When he gets up he takes in his surroundings. 

His childhood home. It’s been so long, oh _so long_ since he’s been here. He’s caught between the good memories and the terrible. He can’t control the way he’s trembling, wildly like a leaf. He’s got no control over his leg, sinking into the dusty floor, eyes wide in shock. He’d never imagine he would ever be back here. Squeezes his eyes to try and block out all the memories that flood him. The memories of his Mother, when he was happy with him, their life. The memories of the stories she told, about planets, and stars, and princes, tales about the Gods. She would never know that they were real. 

He does his best to collect himself, and is still shaking by the time he stands up, but it’s been reduced to a tremor. He takes deep breaths, trying to collect himself. He needs to find a way out of here, and he has no idea how. There’s no sign of Suho, and Junmyeon wonders briefly if the God has abandoned him, leaving him alone to die in his thoughts. Or maybe, his physical body has died. And Junmyeon is left to wander his memories for eternity, trying to force them away back into the darkness. 

He wanders his childhood home, barely aware of his surroundings. Shuffles through the rooms vacantly, trying to find something, _anything_ of use. He nearly passes out in his Mother’s bedroom. It’s much too vivid, too untouched to be real. He thinks of Minseok’s daunting words, _Let’s see what evil awaits you there._ This is the evil he must be talking about. Junmyeon’s mother, or maybe his memories. 

There’s a small mirror on her bedside, the handheld kind. Something that used to be pretty, but dulled out over time. The paint peeling, the colours faded, the mirror surface stained with dirt and dust. When Junmyeon picks it up, his eyes flash silver. He nearly recoils, dropping it to the ground, but he doesn’t. 

“Suho?” He whispers brokenly, and it hurts to be back here. Maybe if he asked the God to kill him, he'd be merciful. All thoughts about optimism, and trying, seems too bleak and unrealistic. 

The reflection reaches out from the mirror, fingertips stopping right at the surface. _‘Mirrors are like...portals.’_ Junmyeon thinks, and without hesitating, he sticks his hand towards the mirror. He watches with muted fascination as it actually sinks into the mirror’s surface, and another hand grasps his from the other side. 

It’s not his own strength that pulls Suho up from the mirror. It can’t be, not when he’s staring wide eyed and disbelieving at the tiny mirror. It seems impossible that Suho’s entire being had stepped out of it, but it’s true. He doesn’t even want to look at the God, choosing to sink back down to the floor on his knees. 

There’s a hand on his wrist, he realizes belatedly. And when he looks up, Suho is there beside him. Crouching down, worry etched all over his face. Junmyeon’s face. He breathes out in relief when Junmyeon sees him. 

“What,” Junmyeon begins, searching the God’s eyes for an answer. “What _happened?”_

“You woke up,” and then, “Are you alright?” The God questions, and he’s looking at Junmyeon intently. 

“I don’t think so,” Junmyeon answers honestly, and it’s been so long since he’s told the truth. His eyes are filled with tears. “I don’t think I am.” 

“That’s ok,” he soothes, and his voice is melodic and pretty. “This isn’t real,” 

_I know,_ Junmyeon wants to reply, but the words are lodged in his throat. He can’t really help the strangled noise that comes up, and he’s trying his best to block it all out. 

“I can still hear your thoughts, you know,” the Moon God murmurs, and it strikes Junmyeon as unfair for the umpteeth time. A one way alley where the superior knows everything, and Junmyeon knows next to nothing. 

“This isn’t real,” Junmyeon repeats, screwing his eyes shut. “This isn't real. This _can’t be real.”_ He’s chanting it now like a mantra, and when he opens his eyes he finds that the God is still staring at him, silver eyes unmoving. “What do we have to do to get out of here?” 

Suho hesitates, and Junmyeon is scared of the answer he doesn’t want to give. 

“You need to tell me,” Junmyeon pleads. “Because if you don’t, if you don’t—” Junmyeon can’t even think about the rest of his sentence. He can’t stop thinking about his Mother, and his planet, and the hand outstretched trying to kill him. His mother’s hand. Minseok’s hand. _Her_ hand. “I’ll break,” Junmyeon whispers, and it’s the truth. 

“He used some kind of magic,” Suho gestures vaguely to their surroundings, and it’s not the answer Junmyeon is looking for. He struggles for a second to get up, and the God aides. With a hidden strength Junmyeon doesn’t know about, the Moon God helps him up. One hand lugging him to a standing position the other hovering beside Junmyeon, as if he’s scared he’s going to fall. 

“Purple,” Junmyeon replies in a stupor. He can’t process what just happened, the endless loop with his Mother, the way Suho killed her. He doesn’t even try to justify it. “Purple magic. Purple like Minseok’s eyes,” he murmurs, “Purple like…” he loops up at the God, not wanting to finish. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and he looks mournful. 

“My mother,” Junmyeon whispers, thinking of Minseok— no, her, confession. “It wasn’t, she wasn’t at fault.” 

There’s something so impossibly sad buried deep with Suho’s eyes. The silver wavers, and a sense of deep mourning fills Junmyeon. Not just for his Mother, but countless others whose lives had been hijacked in her favour. All people who if strong enough, could have led a very different life. 

“She was good until the end,” is all Suho replies. Not her end, not the end where she died with Yixing’s sword buried in her chest. Her own end. The second before she gave up, letting the witch corrupt and rot her soul. 

“I never knew,” Junmyeon whispers, and his heart feels sore. He’s in no mood to stand up and fight. No mood to converse. He just wants to curl himself into a ball, and never have to face the light again. 

“Are you going to let her win?” 

Junmyeon’s eyes snap open, and he stares at Suho in shock, “Let her _win?”_

“You gave up, for a moment,” The God’s voice is hushed, and he presses a hand to where Junmyeon’s heart is. “I felt it.” 

The words strike a chord in Junmyeon’s heart, he thinks of his dreams. How he’s felt like a puppet being played for his whole life. He thinks of his MOther, the foggy memories of him waking up. It all hurts. 

He doesn’t want to let her win. Would rather suffer than even give her, _Minseok,_ the victory. That’s not what he was thinking minutes ago, but it’s what he’s vowing to think now. He had a chance, right? A chance to fix this, make this situation right. His cycle was different after all. He had encountered her twice, not once. She had come for him both times. It’s so pathetically and artificially optimistic, but Junmyeon forces himself to think this way. Refuses to let his thoughts help him give up. 

“You stayed with me,” Junmyeon replies, and now instead of feeling dread when looking upon the God, he feels relief. He’s not alone, not abandoned in the deepest corners of his mind. “I owe you,” he continues softly. Thinking about all the times Suho’s hidden strength had come in handy. “I can’t promise her demise, but I can promise I’ll try.”

There’s a flicker of _something_ in his silver eyes. Junmyeon is too inexperienced to tell. Can’t decipher it for the life of him. “If that’s the path you choose, so be it.” 

Junmyeon’s words were meant to bring comfort, hope. The God’s words echo demise, calamity. The words bring a sense of doom that Junmyeon doesn’t like. “Why are we here? I thought I woke up?” He changes the subject. 

“You did,” The God replies grimly, “Just not in the normal sense.” 

“You said this wasn’t real,” Junmyeon looks around, No cage, no darkness. Just his dusty childhood home, barren and ruined. 

Suho’s mouth is set into a thin, straight line. 

“Do you know where we are, Junmyeon?” He's asking the questions patiently, as if they have time. 

“No more of that,” Junmyeon murmurs, tentatively taking a step back. He pivots, and now he’s face to face with the wall he just saw dissolve. “No more secrets. No more riddles. My guess will only take us so far,” it’s strange how comfortable he’s gotten with the God. Conversing as if they’re old friends, or siblings even. “If I’m going to try, I need to know everything.” 

“I’ll ask you again, do you know where we are?” 

“My old home,” Junmyeon frowns, hands balled into fists. He could never get a straight answer, could he. 

“No, that’s gone now.” As sad as it is, it’s the truth. The harsh truth that has air flowing Junmyeon’s lungs again. “This isn’t real, remember?”

Junmyeon nods. 

“So, do you know where we are?” The God presses, and Junmyeon can see how he wants Junmyeon to come to the conclusion by himself. A way to give him clarity while his thoughts are dark and clouded. 

_No, that’s why I’m asking._ Junmyeon thinks, and now the God’s frowning. Of course he heard that. Junmyeon tries again, thinking about Minseok, about his curser. He thinks about those purple eyes and the cruel words that came from them. 

“Your mind,” The God answers straight-forwardly. “Specifically, our minds.There’s a joint where we meet, it’s where we’ve kept meeting, and that place where they overlap is where we are now.” he smiles wryly, “It also happens to be where I was locked inside you, Junmyeon.” 

It’s so mind-blowingly peculiar Junmyeon can’t bring himself to answer. 

“Your mind was so strong, so tormented, that you refused to accept the truth that was in front of you the whole time. As a result, I was weak, and before your Mother died she managed to lock me away here.” 

“And now?” 

“We’re trapped in here together.” A pause, “I managed to slip through a crack, but we’ll have to return soon.” To the loop, Junmyeon assumes. 

Suho had been locked away in his mind for years, left to starve away, but he didn’t. This time could be different. _Locked away in the juncture where their minds met._ This was Minseok’s doing. Trapping Junmyeon in the darkest part of his mind, the place where it overlaps with a being who’s lived and lived and lived, suffered, and suffered, and suffered. The place where both their fears could be made real, where they could come alive and _manifest._

He gets it now, it’s his darkness. His problems and past, mixed with Suho’s. A combination that should’ve never been created in the first place. Volatile and unpredictable. He thinks of Minseok’s words: _Let’s see what evil awaits you there._ In some way, Minseok must’ve meant them. Not his creation, but how it was altered based on them. 

“We’re still here, in the… darkness.” He answers, and now his brain is starting to work, cogs turning as he pushes a little further to find the answer. “My childhood home means, this is my past.” He looks up at Suho, “This is my biggest fear,” 

“Precisely,” he smiles, and it’s a little strange for him to be smiling when they’re both kneeling down on the floor of where the worst memories of Junmyeon’s life took place. He supposes he can let it slide, because he feels calmer now. Not by a lot, this was his _fear_ after all, but enough to truly believe it’s not real. 

Junmyeon thinks of what just happened, the eerie endless loop he was trapped in. “How do we get out?” Junmyeon whispers, there’s nothing but darkness in his future, for as far as he can see.

“If we try? Together.” That doesn’t really answer the question, but no answer Junmyeon is given ever does.

“And if we don’t try?” 

“We stay here. Trapped until your human body rots away.” 

“And then you’ll leave.” The dreaded cycle of rebirth. 

Suho nods. 

“And I…?” 

“There aren’t many things a God doesn’t know, Junmyeon.” He answers quietly, and the answer wracks Junmyeon with chills. “But this is one of them.” 

It leaves his throat dry, and his mind running and running. The idea of spending eternity in _here,_ the place of his deepest fears is terrifying. The prospect of having to face it alone, is even worse. “So we try,” Junmyeon inhales sharply. 

“Do you understand what we have to do now Junmyeon?” 

_Not quite,_ Junmyeon wants to answer. But he knows that’s false. He can presume what they have to do, and he just doesn’t want to say it. Doesn’t want to be face to face with the situation presented in front of him. “We have to kill her. My Mother.,” Junmyeon swallows. “Before she kills me,” Junmyeon nods, and he can’t figure out how the God is so calm about… all this. Keeping a level head, directing Junmyeon and _helping_ him. 

“Are you scared?” It’s a stupid question.

“Are you?” One that Junmyeon asks in an attempt to quell his own fears. 

“I’ve had my lifetimes spent in fear, and sorrow, and anger.” The Moon God looks pensive now, “I’ve had plenty of time to think and reflect.” he glances over at Junmyeon. “And change.” 

He hasn’t answered the question, but Junmyeon gets the message loud and clear. There are things he’ll do differently this time. Things that will alter and change memories they will be forced to face. “Are you ready?” 

“Are you?” 

It’s unfair, to have the question pointed back at him so harshly. “No, but then again…” he pauses, making sure to look the God in the eyes. “I couldn’t ever be prepared for the life destined for me.” There’s a silent, and twisted _‘Because of you’_ that hangs off Junmyeon’s lips, never to be said. 

Junmyeon has just been subjected to a cruel fate. A cruel fate given to him because one person loved the Sun God so much, she cursed the one he loved. A weak, evil attempt to get him back. Instead, she had tormented them both to endless cycles of love and longing. A cycle Junmyeon had no choice but to live. Fate was a cruel, cruel master. Junmyeon was it’s poor subject. 

“So be it,” Suho murmurs, and he looks up. There’s love in his eyes, and when Junmyeon looks up he sees what he’s looking at, the Sun. He doesn’t feel any love in his heart, nothing but old and settled resentment. 

“Tell me what happens first,” Junmyeon demands suddenly. “I can’t be blindsided. Not anymore, and especially not here.” 

Suho takes it in calmly, is clearly not angry. Never gets angry, always the supposed benevolent, one of the two Gods. 

“You owe me this,” Junmyeon says quietly, and it’s not a low blow, but the honest, honest truth. Suho owes Junmyeon for all the dreams, all the people who thought he was crazy. He owed him for the fights with Yixing who he loves so much, and the murder of his mother. The list could go on and on, but Junmyeon knows where to draw the line. Maybe it was shameful for a God to owe a human, even when the human is its own reincarnation. Junmyeon doesn’t care, he just wants answers. 

“She will be there, waiting to kill you. The location will change,” He says it faintly, and somehow serenely. “To the place she killed _me.”_ A combination of their minds, a combination of their fears.”Most likely it’ll be her, in your Mother’s body.”

Junmyeon shudders at the thought. His Mother, an empty, infected shell. 

“For me, on the eve of the final day she called upon the Dead Army, I can only assume they will be there. I can take care of them,” Junmyeon can see it now, the determination in those younger eyes. He can picture Suho on the fateful day, crying out in pain, trying to save a land he grew to love. “You will need to handle her. She will be there, armed and ready.” 

_Just like real life._

“She will be there, waiting to kill me.” 

_That’s also like real life._

“And we have to change that,” 

“Have to _overcome_ it.” Suho reminds him lightly, and he’s got this faraway look in his eyes. Junmyeon tries not to stray over to the thoughts of anger and bitterness. Refuses to so much as spare a second to think about how unfair it is, that he is paying for someone else’s mistake. A God, no less. 

“Do you have a plan?” 

“Of course,” 

“And that is?” Junmyeon quirks an eyebrow out. He doesn’t know why he’s calm, doesn’t know why the panic isn’t ringing through him loud and painfully. 

“You know what it is,” The Moon God looks over at Junmyeon, eyes filled with silver. “Kill her before she gets to me,” and there’s something about the way he says it, that makes Junmyeon freeze in his spot. Low and filled with suppressed rage. Just a hint of his darker side, the one that isn’t kind and benevolent, but tired and angry. This must be like a bitter slap to the God’s face, a retake of the day that ruined his many lives. A retake that forced him to live out the action he should’ve taken, the actions that would have spared him. 

A running clock. One that looms over them scary and haunting. With every tick of it’s hands Junmyeon can hear the message that floats out. _You’re doomed. Truly doomed if you don’t defeat the fears in time._

“Are you ready?” 

Junmyeon nods but he feels anything but. 

In a sudden, strong movement, the God brings his hand — the engraved one— down to the floor they’re standing on. He slams it against the ground, and the effect is immediate. White cracks run along the ground, breaking apart the room. The ground beneath his feet is falling, and not only that. The cracks run _upwards,_ white and jagged, racing towards things Junmyeon can’t see. Junmyeon looks at Suho, and Suho looks at him. His eyes reflecting the bright white of the lines

☾

Junmyeon is getting really tired of falling, he doesn’t scream as much this time. A surprised and short yell is what comes out instead. When he lands, he gets up immediately, although shaky. He barely has time to take in his surroundings, and he realizes that he has landed in absolute chaos.

It’s horrible, the weather is hot and humid, and there’s sand everywhere. It blinds him, gets in his eyes, mouth, _everywhere._ He’s standing on top of a sand dune, trying to process what he’s seeing. Warriors, covering every inch of the sand. There’s the sound of clashing swords. Screams and yells, there’s this screeching that just won’t go away. 

He has dropped into the middle of a war. Suho, is nowhere to be seen. 

Someone charging at him brings him back to his senses. He freezes for a moment, cursing how his feet just stop moving, and he feels his heartbeat quicken. They’ve got a sword pointing at him, ready to fight and—

Another sword pierces their chest, right in front of Junmyeon. He can’t help the gasp that escapes him, shock filling him up. He’s no stranger to death and despair, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get to him. He’s sent flying down the sand dune, tumbling down, hitting bodies as he goes.

When he reaches the base of the dune, he brings himself to a kneel, spitting out what he can. He sees Suho, at the top of the dune. He’s the one fighting, the ground splitting wherever he walked, power _radiating_ from him. It’s incredible to see. He’s yelling something incomprehensible. Something old and ancient, a tongue Junmyeon doesn’t understand. She’s right there, purple magic flying from her fingers. 

It grabs Suho’s arms, twists around him and his legs, forcing him to his knees. It’s all too easy, he’s not putting up much of a fight, and Junmyeon can hear the words in his mind, ringing clear. _‘Kill her before she kills me’._ That’s why he wasn’t in the same spot as Suho, to give them both a fighting chance.

He takes slow breaths, looking around for something, _anything_ that can be used to help. Luckily for him, there’s plenty. Lying amongst the carcasses of the dead. Their bodies are strewn all over, the enemy’s side and ‘their’ side alike. He catches glimpses of charred faces, dismembered figures, and he represses a shudder. He reaches over to the nearest body, and pulls it’s sword out. It’s heavier than what he’s used to and sticky with blood, but it’ll do. He makes his way up the dunes, slowly, trying not to be seen. 

He can see them clearly now, the purple clouds that roll above them, and the Moon. Shining brightly, twinkling among her starry companions. It pangs Junmyeon’s heart, because it feels like the last lovely sight he’s ever going to see. Lightning meets their feet, the wind rages between them, and their eyes. Glowing, captivating. Junmyeon sees Suho, kneeling down. She’s got him trapped, and there are tears running down his face. Illuminated in the moonlight, Junmyeon knows what to do now. 

As if time slows down, as if fate is actually on Junmyeon’s side, he finds enough strength to run. Full speed, he’s tripping over bodies, nearly falls onto them, but he manages to keep himself upright, charging at her. When his hands reach her, touch her for the electrifying second that he shoves her away, something shifts in the atmosphere. He can’t explain it, but he sees it ripple, as if something good is moving amongst the evil. And then he’s there, sprawled on the sand, back facing the sky. He needs to get to Suho. 

She is sent _flying._ His push can’t have been that strong, but he can’t afford to pay attention to her. For their sake. 

_In another version, it described the moon._

Suho is wounded, gravely. Junmyeon can see it. The purple magic that binds him, that blood that runs down his front, the sides of his face. It streaks across him, terrifying and impure. Something wraps around Junmyeon’s foot, and now he’s flat against the ground. He doesn’t have to look to know what it is. He can feel it’s heavy weight, and he knows it’s the purple magic. She’s trying to pull him back, but she’s spread out too thin. Controlling the army, keeping Suho detained. The force of his push was too much. He crawls forward using his ankles to help drag himself forward. He can barely move, his progress slowing with every passing second. 

_In all it’s holy etherealness, glowing majestically as it proceeded to crash straight into a planet._

“Hold my hand,” Junmyeon he cries out breathlessly, approaching the God. He can’t move anymore, is chained to the ground. “Reach for it,” he orders breathlessly. The wind is whipping around them crazily, and Junmyeon stares up, fixated at the moon. 

_Destroying entire populations, turning everything into fine dust the moment it scraped across the planet’s surface._

He doesn’t have the time to ask the God, _‘That was you, wasn’t it?’_ doesn’t have the time to ask him _how_ or _when,_ not when she’s right behind them. Hot on their trail, speaking curse after curse. The purple vines of magic curl around Junmyeon’s legs, and start to drag him under. 

Suho reaches out, he’s not close enough to grasp Junmyeon’s hand. He barely has enough willpower left to stretch his arm out towards Junmyeon, but he does it shakily. Junmyeon tries his best too, sweat dripping from his forehead as he pushes past the weight crushing his legs and stretches his hand out. He just needs to reach his hand. 

The weight is becoming unbearable, intruding on Junmyeon’s thoughts, and he can’t feel his legs anymore. His torso feels detached from his body.With trembling fingers, their fingertips manage to touch. When they graze the tops of the fingers, something _clicks._

A piece of him, back into place. A piece he didn’t know was missing. There’s this thrumming underneath his skin now, a low buzz of power that runs throughout him and leaves him energized. Without thinking he weakly keeps his other arm upright, pointing towards the sky, and imagines he’s holding the moon. Imagining it’s heavy weight, the burden on his hands, his shoulders. The burden Suho has carried through lifetimes, the burden he’s forced others to carry. With closed eyes and a whispered prayer, Junmyeon curls his fist, the one facing the sky, and slams it downwards into the ground. 

The moment his fist connects with the ground, cracks spread out from it. Fine lines that start slow and spread across the desert floor as if it’s not sand. Almost as if he’s in a box, the cracks don’t climb over sand dunes or the hollows in the sand, they just extend horizontally, and then vertically.The purple magic sinks into the white cracks. They reach as far as Junmyeon can see, sideways and upwards, and the floor begins to crack under his feet. The ground finally gives in. 

This time when Junmyeon plummets, he’s silent. Behind him, he can hear her screeching, high-pitched and ear grating, above him, the moon starts to fall towards the planet, and in front of him, there is no God.


	3. Chapter 3

_It’s a catastrophe, he thinks to himself, crawling through the sand in an attempt to reach him. The purple clouds roll above him, dense and filled with a bitter hatred only he can feel. A hatred directed at him._

_He didn’t do anything wrong, he just fell in love with someone unattainable. Someone too powerful, too bright, someone who burned when touched._

_He had fallen in love with the sun._

_And now, lying in the sand, breathing his last breath, he’s paying the price._

_A curse she had said, eyes flickering a purple so dark they look blacked. A curse uttered under her breath as she had wrapped his legs with purple magic and dragged him under. A curse that forced him to never be with his love, a curse that forced them to be a part forever, and ever, and ever._

_When he closes his eyes, he pictures gold eyes burning into his._

_A curse, all because he fell in love with the sun._

☾

Junmyeon wakes up. Finally, actually opens his eyes to the reality he’s worked so hard to return to. The reality he’s been fighting to return to. The reality he’s wanted to leave since forever.

There’s no sign of Suho. No familiar murmuring in his head, no being watching him from the shadows, the mirrors, or the cracks in reality. Junmyeon doesn’t know where the moon God went, but he has a feeling he’ll never see him again. And while he wishes he could stop for a moment and mourn, take the time to send a prayer up to the Gods, he can’t afford to.

He has no idea where he is, but he can work with that. He tries to get facts right first. Fact, he doesn’t know where he is. Fact, he doesn’t know where Yixing is. Fact, he’s locked away, probably as Minseok’s prisoner. Myth, he’s going to stay here and let himself rot. 

Junmyeon takes in his surroundings, he’s in some sort of dark cellar, jailed in. Vertical steel bars surround him on every side. A door apparent, but a lock bigger than his hands clamps it shut.. There’s nothing in reach to help him escape, not a crowbar, not even a single brick. He can’t help the hopelessness that lingers in his mind. It pervades his thoughts and makes it impossible for him to think clearly. Maybe he should let himself rot, but he doesn’t want to leave Yixing’s survival in the air, he needs to see him. 

Minseok, no, _her._ She had left him locked up here, with the intention of either letting him rot and wither, or to come and finish him himself. Herself. It’s all too confusing. The thought is terrifying and he won’t let himself be slaughtered like this for her and her helpless cause. His helpless curse. He wants to be in control of his own destiny, for once. Not at her mercy, not saved because of Yixing. A choice, a choice he has to make to decide his own destiny. 

Junmyeon is definitely not strong enough to open lock himself with his bare hands. There would be no feasible way to, and yet, he feels like he should. There’s something in the back of his mind that urges him to just wrap my hand around it, and _break it._ Just shatter it to pieces. He doesn’t know where the God is, but he knows that it’s not him who urges him to break the cell open. 

He does as told, or well, as feels. He gets up slowly, notices the way his knees don’t give in, they don’t shake and for once, after a long time, Junmyeon doesn’t feel useless. He doesn’t feel a pounding headache behind his eyes, he doesn’t feel his heartbeat quickening and the anxiety and fear that normally settles in the pit of his stomach. He feels calm and in charge, despite being trapped in a cell. Despite it being the opposite of what he should feel.

He makes his way towards the bars, stares at the lock for a few deafening seconds. He hears something rushing in his ears, the sounds of screaming, the sound of glass breaking, and purple coloured doom, calamity and chaos. He visualizes it breaking. A clean cut down it’s middle, or the loud shattering noise it would make, as if it’s being twisted from the inside from the sheer force of his hands alone. And it’s then he finally gets a good look at his hands, they look a bit pale almost silver in the weaning darkness of the cell. But the most noticeable feature are the eyes engraved on his hands, They stare at him harshly almost as if they can actually see, as if they can actually judge.

Suho’s hands on his body. No, it’s more like his hands and Suho’s combined. As if the God has given him his strength. He has an inkling of an idea about what happened to him, but he doesn’t want to come to terms with it. He visualizes his hands now, ripping it open, cutting it in half. Closes his eyes, take a deep breath, and goes for it.

The power that rushes and flows through him is _incredible._ A quiet thrum of strength that courses through his veins, settles in his bones. He stares at the lock, feeling amazement, and disbelief, despite knowing that the thought was his alone, he still is shocked that it worked.

And then he hears the yelling. 

_Guards._ Of course, Minseok wouldn’t leave him here by himself. He was smart, probably had this planned out from the start. Or she did, it’s too confusing to keep mentally correcting himself. He feels pity for the old Minseok, who’s probably just a shell in his own mind. Rotting away in an endless loop like Junmyeon was supposed to do. But regardless, he can’t dwell on it for too long. This is a carefully thought out plan that Junmyeon will have to evade. Break, dismantle, and destroy. 

Junmyeon makes quick work of getting out of the cell. All around him are long stony hallways, filled with ancient stones and rickety pathways. Engravings from an old tongue, maybe something used to be chained here, old and forgotten. Junmyeon doesn’t care. He shouldn’t, so why waste his time. 

Running down those pathways, are soldiers. Warriors, if Junmyeon were to describe them. Their forms flicker in and out, not completely alive, not completely dead. A shell of a human, but not ghosts. Halfway through death and life: the Dead Army. Their armour is dull, their capes ragged and torn, and their eyes. Oh their eyes are empty, black and void, nearly soul-sucking to look at. 

Junmyeon stares them down, and he can see their footsteps falter. The occasional warrior tumbles back, scared. He keeps staring, feeling completely calm. He knows what he has to do, for once. There’s this ringing in his ears, and it’s eerily quiet. They’re charging at him, and Junmyeon’s hands just _move._

Balled into fists, _he_ slams his hands into the ground, similar to how he saw Suho do it over, and over and over again to break them out of their fabricated nightmares. The ground doesn’t just crack, it splits open. A clean cut right down the pathway the warriors are walking. He watches with muted fascination, as if it’s not quite him who’s watching, as the ground crumbles into empty nothingness. A cavern of darkness that envelops the warriors, leaving them falling, screaming, gasping for breath as they fall down, and down, and down. 

He doesn’t feel anything. No pain, no remorse for them, no satisfaction for his quick, crushing victory. He feels indifferent to the loss of life, even if they weren’t fully alive. He stares at the darkness, and it reminds him of all the times he fell. All the times he had collapsed with headaches and pains he couldn’t control. 

It makes Junmyeon _angry,_ but he has no time for that. His feet drag him, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s led down pathways and up stairs, he sees them still, the flickering of a soldier here and there, but they don’t approach. Maybe they were left behind, maybe they know better. Junmyeon just wants to get out of the dark, for once. He follows the noise, or so he thinks. Rather than having a reason behind where he goes, he follows where his feet want to take him. As if invisible red strings are tied to them, and tugging in the direction Junmyeon should go. 

There are little guards on his way up, or out? He can’t tell. He just hears a faint ringing in his ears, and a thrumming under his skin. The silence is _broken_ the moment Junmyeon stumbles out. He’s blinded by the sun, his eyes unable to adapt to the sudden harsh light that floods his vision, compared to the dark prison he had been stumbling around. 

_Now,_ he feels something. The tightening in his stomach, the familiar build of anxiety. All around him are bodies, the clashing of swords. Sounds of yelling and screaming and sights of fighting, and blood, and it’s almost too _much._ Reminds him of his home, the way it was invaded and captured. This is a horrifying mix of real soldiers and the dead army. Skills unmatched. A war, like Minseok had promised. The advantage of surprise, Junmyeon being a supposed advantage he had started a _war._ The bastard, Junmyeon thinks with disgust, and he’s so sick and tired of all this. 

It’s just like his dream, the piles of bodies everywhere, the dead and the alive fighting for a brutal victory. Junmyeon has no weapon, but he makes quick work of finding one. He can’t afford to be picky, grabbing the first sharp thing he sees. A dagger, small, but it’ll work. 

Yixing’s planet was strong, they had capable warriors but were they _this_ capable? Capable of fighting the living and the inbetween? He doesn’t know, he has no idea. Junmyeon just knows he needs to find Yixing, he needs to get to Yixing, he just _has to._ There’s no explanation but that there’s where he wants, no, needs to be. They needed to face this together. It was the only way they could have a chance, the only way Junmyeon can choose his own future. Because Minseok doesn’t want to harm Yixing. _She_ doesn’t want to have the Sun God dead at her feet. She wants Suho’s demise, and Lay to herself. 

Junmyeon gets it now, as he pushes through the people, desperate to find Yixing. He gets how he felt on the fateful day they met, where his feet just moved towards Junmyeon. A soulmate connection, one Junmyeon rarely felt, activated and motivating Junmyeon. It’s easy to take out the people in his way, the people who dare to try and stop him. He supposes they’re actually trying, but it’s all too easy to wipe them aside, make the ground swallow them on the spot. There’s chaos around him, and in the midst of it is when he feels truly calm. Strange, peculiar, absurd, there’s no way to describe it. He’s on a rampage to find Yixing, and sees him nowhere. Hints of him are everywhere, the red of his army, the skills and the swords, and the sun. Beating down on them hard and cruel. It screams Yixing, the way his warriors move with no hesitation, but he’s nowhere to be seen. 

He has to be with Minseok. The thought makes him run hot and cold. It’s the only explanation. Junmyeon can think of. Where would Minseok be? Junmyeon looks up at the clouds, running purple and dark across the land. The center of the storm. 

It doesn’t require much thinking, which is good because Junmyeon has been doing none of that lately. He runs towards the clouds, dodging enemy soldiers throughout. It’s easy, too easy. As if he has a hidden strength in him. The Dead Army keeps away, and Junmyeon can feel the fear coming off them. 

They’re scared. 

Of _him._

When he reaches the center of the clouds he can truly see how monstrous it is. Purple and strictly, power and hate rolling off it. And at the center, Minseok stands. Purple magic shooting from his hands, a crazed look in his eyes. Yixing is nowhere to be found, and while normally Junmyeon would be frozen in fear, he refuses to be this time. 

“Minseok!” Junmyeon yells through the wind and the sand, and the moment they lock eyes the atmosphere changes. A ripple of power that resonates throughout the land. Junmyeon won’t back down, not this time. He refuses to. His legs don’t shake and he doesn’t feel sick anymore. The only thing on his mind is the need for Minseok to go down. 

_Kill her before she kills me._

“You made it,” Minseok calls back, grinning as if he’s greeting an old friend and not someone who wants dead. “I was worried you’d never make it,” 

“Well I’m not one to disappoint,” Junmyeon grins back, and he feels crazy. Energized off of power and energy. He walks towards Minseok, keeping his head high. Pictures Yixing is beside him, and giving him courage. 

There’s a moment where they stand distanced, looking each other in the eyes. “How do you want to do this?” Minseok asks, he throws a ball of purple magic into the air, and catches it. It’s not really a catch, the magic just gets absorbed back into him.

“The easy way,” Junmyeon answers. “Where you admit defeat.” 

Minseok’s eyebrow quirks up, “Admit defeat? Never. I always win you know,” and it’s not Minseok speaking, but it’s her. 

“This time will be different,” Junmyeon speaks it into existence. 

“We’ll see, Minseok smiles, and it’s on. 

He starts his attack immediately, soldiers made from bone rising from the ground to try and kill Junmyeon. Those are easy to deal with, Junmyeon has always been fast. He moves quickly to dodge, evade, and strike them in their chests. Their weaknesses are easy to exploit, and he’s finished in minutes. 

Minseok reaches out and Junmyeon rolls over, leaping up to his feet to tackle him. Without thinking, Junmyeon hurls himself at Minseok, Minseok dodges and lets Junmyeon tumble onto the ground. Junmyeon holds the dagger out, pointed up at Minseok. It’s useless but he doesn’t _care_ , “Where’s Yixing?” He grits out. 

“You’re precious prince?” Minseok drawls, and he sounds out of breath. He must be weak, that’s the only reason purple magic isn’t choking Junmyeon to death right now. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” He raises his hands, and now the purple magic is there, climbing up. Junmyeon stays frozen, he can’t help it. It reminds him of his Mother, no _her_ and he hates how it affects him even after all these years. 

“Isn’t he _your_ precious prince?” Junmyeon goads, and he can basically hear how Suho would be yelling at him by now. To not goad and lure Minseok out of his cave of power into the daylight of anger. 

He tries to stand but the magic yanks him down. Minseok’s eyes flash a purple so dark they look black. “He will be,” Minseok answers easily, and Junmyeon can see him straining. It must be too much, controlling the army, the dark clouds, the magic threatening to kill Junmyeon. It swiftly climbs up his legs, pulls him to the ground. Junmyeon has a decision to make, and he has to be fast. 

“You _bastard,”_ Junmyeon wheezes as the magic advances, purple strands rolling up and around his neck. “But that’s not enough,” his hands are restrained, but enough that he can’t ball them into fists. Minseok will be his own downfall. 

Minseok’s eyes widen but it’s too late. It’s all too easy for Junmyeon to slam his hands into the ground, and create a chasm for Minseok to fall into. The end comes fast, disappointingly so. There’s no relief in the way Minseok falls into the ground, swallowed by darkness. He'll be back. _She’ll_ be back. Waiting for Junmyeon, waiting to kill. 

The sounds of war still go on. What will happen to the army once Minseok loses control? Will they die off? Rampage into insanity? Junmyeon doesn’t know, and feels too drained to try and find answers. Maybe he’s over-exerted himself, maybe he just doesn’t care. 

He hears something in the distance, shouts of terror? Screams of chaos? He’s familiar enough with both to recognize them. He chooses to lay back in the sandy dunes, sand whipping in his eyes causing them to defensively create tears. 

Yixing wasn’t the moon, Junmyeon thinks to himself, he was the sun. Still ethereal, still glowing. But glowing red. Spitting fire, producing sparks. He was hot to touch, couldn’t be stared at too long for the image of his golden eyes would burn into ones retina for as long as they could live. 

And there he is, as if he’s heard Junmyeon’s call Junmyeon sees him. 

Handsome, beautiful even, powerful enough to annihilate nations with the snap of a finger. Powerful enough to burn everything straight into the ground. Holding the real power of the kingdom, no he was the power of the kingdom, the secret weapon? No. There was nothing secret about the way he tore up people on the battlefield without even blinking.

Something unpredictable, wise and judging. A weapon smart enough to decide who deserved to live and who deserved to die in seconds.

But it wasn’t the sun that was going to kill Junmyeon, oh no, it wasn’t Yixing who was going to kill him in all his marvelous fury, it was Junmyeon himself.

Junmyeon’s vision blurs as he struggles to breathe. Watching Yixing march towards him, maroon cape fluttering dramatically in the breeze, golden sword hanging from his hand, watching Junmyeon with red, dark, concentrated eyes, his deadly expression burning people the moment they made eye-contact. 

And all Junmyeon can think about, the only thing consuming his mind, is the goddamn moon.

Yixing slashes the charging enemy soldiers with no hesitation, he has a clear goal in mind, and that’s to reach Junmyeon. Junmyeon doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he reaches him, but he has half the mind to hope he’ll end him. 

He falls onto his knees beside Junmyeon, searching for wounds. Junmyeon has a few scratches here and there, butm miraculously no big wounds. 

“Oh Junmyeon,” Yixing whispers, brushing a few strands of hair from his face. “Your eyes,” He pulls out a dagger hanging from his hip, and shows Junmyeon his reflection. 

His eyes stare back at him, one brown, one silver. 

Oh. Junmyeon thinks of how Yixing said it, how Lay never had control of his body. They were practically fused together into one soul.

This was the best Junmyeon and Suho could manage to do. A strange fusion, one that had a constant reminder of their struggles.

“Where’s Minseok?” 

“I killed him,” Junmyeon responds hollowly. Easily. So easily it was disappointing. Junmyeon really is a killer now. 

“You did well,” Yixing says, and it looks strangely at peace given how they’re in the middle of a battlefield. “We did well,” 

“What’d you do?” Junmyeon scoffs, but it comes out with a smile.

“Damage control,” Yixing replies easily, and his eyes are slowly morphing back to red. “Tell me, are we trying to win?” 

_Of course we are._ Junmyeon wants to reply, but he understands why the question was asked in the first place. “Just who are we trying to win for?” Junmyeon wheezes out, feeling dizzy. “ She would only rest for so long, always hungry for Suho’s demise. 

Yixing looks pensive, his eyes red but loving. He reaches out to hold Junmyeon’s hand, looking out at the fight all around him. Death and destruction hangs in the air, nearly suffocating them. “For them?” he’s referring to the soldiers, the armies fighting recklessly. 

“For _them?”_ Junmyeon looks at the soldiers, he feels no pity, only detachment. That was _her_ reasoning too. To back up all the horrid things she did, _‘for the good of the kingdom’._ “We don’t owe them,” 

“Should we stop trying then? We could put an end to this,” Yixing says, and now he’s looking back at Junmyeon. 

“We could.” 

“Do you want to?” 

“Do _you_ want to?” Junmyeon questions back, and Yixing’s eyes hold the answer. 

“Stop asking my questions back to me.” 

Junmyeon pictures holding the moon. 

“Put an end to this,” Junmyeon murmurs. Put an end to the misery he’s been subjected to since birth. All because of the Gods. The Gods who even at the end, wouldn’t help them. 

“It’s tempting,” Yixing admits, and he’s looking at Junmyeon alone. 

It’s heavy weight, the burden weighing down his hands just like his dream. 

“Should we save them?” Yixing looks at them, his own soldiers, his own people. 

The Gods would be back anyways. End one cycle of life to start another, Junmyeon was fortunate to not have to go through that cycle. _They_ were lucky enough to suffer once and once alone. 

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon murmurs, curling his hand into a fist. “Should we?”


End file.
